


Confessions

by SaintDionysus



Series: Confessions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Adult Content, Adulthood, Adults, Canon Compliant, Co-Dependent Relationships, Divorce, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Guilt, Infidelity, Mid-life Crisis, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Rumors, Sex, Toxic Relationships, arrested development - Freeform, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 132,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus
Summary: COMPLETE. DRAMIONE.Ten years have passed since Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Draco found themselves in an unlikely team-up. In that time, friendships have grown, marriages have crumbled, the next generation has grown up, and family dynamics are stretched. The story begins with a celebration where a few drinks give friends the courage to confess their long harbored feelings for each other. Visions of the past spanning almost forty years reveal how many events lead to this moment.Post-Canon, flashbacks to Hogwarts era, post-war, and post-CC/start of this story. Reading of Cursed Child not necessary.





	1. My Favourite Faded Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Whisky Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479144) by [SaintDionysus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus). 



> **AWARDS/NOMINATIONS:**  
>  2017 "After all this Time" Spring Dramione Awards  
> FINALIST: Best Romance
> 
> 2017 Granger Enchanted Awards  
> WINNER: Mischief Managed (Best recently completed fic) — Dramione Subcategory  
> WINNER: Witty Witch (Best Quips)  
> FINALIST: Best new Author  
> FINALIST: Best Canon Based Story 
> 
> **Editors/Betas:** [Mama2HPBabies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mama2HPbabies/pseuds/mama2HPbabies) and [MrBenzedrine89](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/pseuds/MrBenzedrine89)
> 
> **Guest Writers on Chapter 21.**   
> 
> 
>   * Penny Halliwell aka Beachmomma77 [Tumblr](https://beachmomma77.tumblr.com/)
>   * A. Knight aka Mama2HPBabies (also head beta for this story) [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mama2HPbabies/pseuds/mama2HPbabies) | [FFN](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8084331/mama2HPbabies) | [Tumblr](http://caspergirlie.tumblr.com/)
>   * Cathy Chatsworth and Sheppard Wolverton aka Saint Dionysus
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> I know Cursed Child is a much-debated topic amongst fans, but I love the adults that Draco and Hermione grew into. She learned to relax and not be so wrapped up in the rules, and his emotions became less compartmentalized and became a caring father. These two versions of some of our favorite characters, I was interested in.
> 
> * * *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is early March 2030, a little over ten years after the events in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. The Granger-Weasley and Malfoy families are celebrating the upcoming union of their children, Rose and Scorpius, respectively. A bottle of whisky helps settle nerves and reveal decades of secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original one-shot that evolved into a multiple chapter story.
> 
> Thank you to [MrBenzedrine89](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89) for offering to edit the chapter. It really helped transform the former one-shot to a proper first chapter.

 

## March 2030

It is the evening of Rose and Scorpius’s engagement party. Both Draco and Scorpius want to make a very public declaration that the pure-blood Malfoy line was coming to an end by hosting the party at Malfoy Manor. Ron and Hermione had been hesitant with the venue choice. The last time they were in Draco’s home, it was used as Death Eaters headquarters, and the events that transpired had terrible, traumatic effects on everyone. But as Minister for Magic, Hermione decided allowing The Malfoys to host this event was a way to show that prejudices against Muggles, Muggleborns, and half-bloods were becoming a thing of the past. Ron did not share Hermione’s tact for diplomacy and was still a bit salty that his only daughter was going to become a Malfoy, despite how much he liked Scorpius.

The guests begin to arrive. Draco, Ron, Rose, and Scorpius welcome everyone when Rose realizes her mother is missing. “Draco. Dad. Have either of you seen Mum?”

“No sweetheart,” Ron says to his daughter, but is whisked away into a conversation before he can say anything else.

“I’ll look for her. The two of you just stay and entertain your guests.” Draco has a sneaking suspicion where she might be and sets toward the old dungeon entrance. There, she stands in front of the stairs leading to where her friends were kept while she was tortured.

“Hermione.”

She looks up, and the pallor on her face says it all. Draco’s heart sinks, knowing being in his home causes her such distress. Though they were friends for over ten years, he had never invited her over in fear this would happen.

“I can’t be in the Great Room just yet.  It’s just. It’s just…” Her voice trails off, and his mind flashbacks to visions of his aunt using the Cruciatus curse repeatedly—her screams of agony still haunt his nightmares.

He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder and says, “I know being here is hard. I think about it all the time. There is so much I regret about that day.” She takes a step forward and wraps her arms around his waist seeking his comfort. Their eyes meet and he tries to show her sincerity. She forces a smile, but she is still a bit rattled. “You know, everything is locked up down there. All my family’s dark artifacts are all locked under glass, and blood magic is the only way to open the door. If I’m ever tempted even to look at those items, I have to cause myself physical harm. I’ve only been in there twice. After Astoria died to put away all my alchemy research and then to retrieve the time-turner.” He then shows her the scars on his hand.

Her finger traces the scar lines, “I’ve never noticed this before. Why do you have scars? Didn’t you use dittany?” she asks puzzled, yet somewhat relieved, knowing this part of his family’s past is locked away from Draco’s present, as well as Scorpius and Rose’s future.

“I wanted to be able to see the reminder.” Now his complexion changes, and looks full of shame. As far as the rest of his appearance, Draco has cut his hair for the occasion, which thankfully masks the grays in his the platinum blond. He also shaved his beard, attempting to regain some sense of his youth. The reality his son is already engaged to be married, makes him feel a bit old. Though he has grown in age, his sense of style is still timeless. He wears a well-fitted suit with a fingertip-length jacket, green brocade waistcoat, and an ascot. Time has been kind to him, and he manages to stay lean despite turning fifty this June.

Before him, Hermione reveals a bit of her age. Though still beautiful, the stressors of life and career have begun to take a toll. She wears soft frown lines, and a streak of white that runs from her hairline and is currently sweeping into her updo.

Hermione found yoga and meditation to help her manage her stress. As a result, she is in the best shape she has been in for years. For the occasion, she wears a beautiful, high-collared, red velvet overcoat with a train decorated in gold embroidered embellishments. The coat fastens with a half-zip at the bodice over a simple champagne satin, floor-length, A-line dress.

Draco breaks their embrace, takes her hand in his, and steps back to look at her outfit, “How is it that we haven’t been to school for over thirty years, and we’re still wearing house colors?”

Hermione looks down at herself and begins to laugh. “At this point, I think it’s more on a subconscious level than anything else.”

“Would you like a drink to help calm your nerves before heading out to the party?”

“Yes, I think that would help.”

“Jollie?” A sweet looking house elf in a miniature version of a black, maid’s uniform complete with white frilly collar and white apron appears.

“Yes, Master Malfoy?”

“Can you please bring Minister Granger and me a bottle of champagne?”

“Stronger.”

“Really? Okay, please get the Glenglassaugh 55 year single malt and bring it to the library. Also, please tell Rose and Scorpius where we are and that the Minister just needs a moment.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Well, she is quite the well-dressed house elf.”

“And well compensated, I might add. Trying to correct my family’s misfortunes with the household staff,” Draco can tell that something he said rattles Hermione. He looks down and realizes he’s still holding her hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze and jokes, “You know I’m utterly useless without help.”

She laughs, “You are a hopeless case when it comes to many things.”

“I’m spoilt. While I am no longer a prat, being waited on is one luxury that I’ll never get over.” He gives her a wink then escorts her into the library. They take a seat on one of the large sofas facing the fireplace. “Are you cold?” He asks.

“A bit.” He shoots a fireball into the fireplace, and it instantly warms up the room. Suddenly, there is a loud pop, and Jollie returns with the rare Scotch whisky. “Thank you, Jollie. What did the kids say?” Hermione smiles at the fact Draco still refers to them as “kids.”

“They said for the minister to take her time, and they were handling all the guests.” The cheerful servant reports.

“Thank you, Jollie. You may now return to your duties at the party.” He pours drinks for the two of them, served neat. He hands Hermione a glass. “Cheers.”

Before she takes a sip of the red mahogany liquid, she breathes it in and smells layers of figs, apricots, and hints of blackberry—maybe even a little Belgian chocolate and intriguing aroma of roast coffee. When it finally touches her lips, it’s mellow, yet full-bodied. The whisky is rich and complex—fruity, herbaceous, and peppery; it is rare and extraordinary. “Draco. This is incredible. Where did you find it?”

“At one-thousand pounds a bottle, it better be incredible. A small distillery in Portsoy. It was dormant for almost twenty years, and when it came back into operation, they found hidden barrels. They also use Tennessee barrels for their newer whiskies to add some bourbon nuances with scotch whisky.” Though a lot of his ideals have changed, he still has an air of snobbishness.

“In my opinion, you cannot put a price on good Scotch. It’s worth every exchanged galleon, knut, and sickle. I told you Ron and I went to the Highlands back in January for a weekend to visit some distilleries, didn’t I? The sod didn’t even appreciate it. Said all whisky tastes the same.” She scoffs, thoroughly irritated at her husband. Draco smiles brightly. “And thank you. The drink is helping.”

“Well, the next time Weasley passes up going on a distillery tour, I’ll join you. You know collecting rare whisky has become a hobby of mine. I’m a bit miffed you didn’t bring something back for me.”

“I knew you would be mad at me. Believe me, I tried to bring you back something, but with the way my husband was acting, the bottle didn’t make it home.” They share a laugh, and the tension eases.

“Hermione. We’ve been friends for a long time, but there is something I wanted to talk to you about but have never had the chance.”

“What is this you want to tell me?” She is caught between the calm from the drink and the intrigue caused by the growing tension on his face.

He summons all the courage he can, takes a big swig of his drink, and begins to release the weight of almost forty years of silence. “I’ve never apologized to you. To just you. I never apologized for how horrible I was to you in school.”

“Draco, that was ages ago. Yes, you were a miserable git, bully, and entirely misguided, but that was thirty years ago. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes. But we moved on. Look at us now.”

“No, Hermione. You cannot brush it off until I tell you everything. Seeing you like that earlier...I have to tell you.” He refills their glasses and takes another big gulp. Her eyes are wide and full of confusion. “I lived my entire youth in fear. Fear of disappointing my parents. Fear of what others thought about me. Fear of not living up to my duties. Fear of being true to myself. I was a bully. I berated you and stood by when your life was threatened because I was scared.”

“Where is this going, Draco?” She slips off her coat and begins fanning herself.

“Is the fire too hot?” he asks but is caught off guard when he sees her in the champagne satin gown. Though she is officially middle-aged now, he could tell she has taken care to maintain her figure.

“No, just the whisky. Go on.” She’s afraid to admit they are hot flashes. She too does not like to admit that she is getting older.

No more stalling, he thinks to himself. “I was a terrible arse to you because—if I said it out loud, maybe I would believe it. Maybe I would accept the indoctrination that muggle-borns were the lowest of the low like my father said. But you weren’t. You aren’t. What I’m trying to say is, you are the reason he gave Ginny The Dark Lord’s journal.”

She tries to put all these puzzle pieces together, but the drinks have made things a little fuzzy. “When I came home after my first year, my father deciphered my annoyance toward a brilliant muggle-born girl, the only student who had higher marks than me, was the only way eleven and twelve-year-old boys knew how to express they fancy someone.”

Her mouth drops open. “I’m sorry?” she says with an entirely confused voice.

“My father wanted to show me that muggle-borns had no place in our world. He didn’t admit to me the actual reason for his involvement with the Chamber of Secrets until he was on his deathbed. He said he would rather have seen an entire school of ‘mudbloods’ die—his words, not mine—than have his son think it was okay to mix blood. I tried so hard not to pay you any mind, and I had myself convinced until the Yule Ball. I couldn’t come up with a single reason to hate you at that moment. Ugh. I can’t do this.” He puts his head down and stares at his glass. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration—a nervous habit he’s had since he was young.

“Draco, it’s okay. You can talk to me.” Hermione puts her hand on his knee. He looks down at her, and it helps him summon his courage.  

 _One more sip then spit it out_ , he thinks to himself. “I was an arse to you because I liked you, and I hated myself for it. I struggled with everything going on in my head. I almost mustered enough courage to save you, Harry, and Weasley from this house, but I failed. What I’m trying to get to is…will you forgive the utterly hateful, arrogant, cowardly boy who caused you so much trauma and heartache?”

The whisky must be getting to him because his words are becoming incoherent. Then again, it was getting to her, too.

“I forgave that boy when I realized he grew into the man before me who raised a boy as wonderful as Scorpius. Draco, I know you aren’t that person anymore.”

The two of them lean close together and look as they are about to kiss, but he pulls away. He knows the alcohol is doing all the talking now. “Astoria was my once-in-a-lifetime love. She’s the one who helped me find my courage and become the man I am today. After she passed, I never thought I could ever look at anyone else. But when I fought alongside you in that church, I became that schoolboy who couldn’t have what he wanted, again. I’m telling you this without hope or agenda. My wasted heart will spend the rest of my life loving the woman who saved me, and the woman who was never meant to be mine.”

She is moved by his words, puts a hand on his cheek, and leans in to give him a single kiss. He then puts his hand on hers, and their foreheads touch. “That will be enough,” he says to her. “Are you ready to celebrate our children? Let them have the romance that I was denied.”

“We were denied,” she corrects him, and his eyes meet hers as she is about to make her confession, “I also thought about you that first year. Of course in the very innocent way eleven and twelve-year-olds do. I may have even been attracted to you when we were teenagers, but the way you treated me just broke my heart. Perhaps, you’re right. Maybe we were never meant to be, but this—this will be our one moment. I will cherish it.”

He kisses her once more but this time their lips linger a bit longer. As they stand up, he takes something out of his pocket, throws it into the fire and says, “ _Incendio._ ”

“What was that?”

“There was a moment from our past. I couldn’t remember if it was real or not, but you answered it for me.”

“Was that the time-turner?”

“Yes. I should have destroyed it years ago, but I wasn’t ready to until this moment. Are you ready, Minister?” He has her coat out, and she slips her arms into the sleeves.

“I think I am. One more drink for the road?”

“You sure you can handle it? You’ve already had two.”

“Draco, I’m about to walk into a room full of Ministry kiss-ups, elitist pure-bloods—including your ex-girlfriend, my husband, all our friends, after snogging my daughter’s fiancé’s father. Yes, I need another drink.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call that snogging. More like pity kissing.”

“It wasn’t pitiful! It was reserved and right for the moment.”

He locks the door, grabs her by the waist, and kisses her long and hard. His lips devour hers with longing and purpose. He may have struggled to find the words earlier, but maybe his actions will speak louder. It feels like lighting surging through their bodies. So many things left unsaid make their way to the forefront. Hermione melts in his arms  finds her hands moving up his chest to rest on his shoulders for support.  

Draco pulls away and says, “Now, you can say I snogged you.”

“Draco?” Her heart was racing. She had just said that them being together was never meant to be, but why does this feel like puzzle pieces starting to fit together?

“Yes?” He still holds her. He knows he pushed his luck with that last kiss and is a little astounded she hasn’t slapped him.

“We should go join the party now. I’ll still take the drink, but I think I owe you a new bottle. I guess we will have to go to Scotland and get you one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know, but I’m feeling something.” He holds back from kissing her and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Then, let’s join the party, and we can talk when you do know.” He holds her face in his hands. It has taken him almost forty years to get to this point. He never imagined having a chance. If there is something to have, he possesses plenty of patience. She doesn’t have much lipstick left on her face, as most of it has ended up kissed away or on her glass. “How does my face look? Did you get any lipstick on me?”

“A little.” She wipes it off of him. He lets go of her, grabs their glasses, and hands Hermione’s glass to her.

He presents his arm, and she takes it. They leave the library as their children walk toward them. From down the hall, it is as if they are looking back in time. Scorpius uncannily resembles a younger Draco—and Rose, Hermione.

“Mum, are you okay?” Rose asks Hermione.

“Yes, yes. Just a bit of anxiety. Had a few drinks with Draco.” She touches the side of her daughter’s face to reassure her.

“Dad, is Hermione drunk?” Scorpius whispers to his father.

“No. Just enjoyed some whisky and some long overdue conversation,” Draco tells his son with a bit of smugness, but this tone utterly baffles his son.

“So are you ready to join the party? Dad and Uncle Harry are looking for you,” says Rose.

“Yes, we are right behind you. Just, let us take our time walking. I want to enjoy the last of my drink before entering the lion’s den.”

“Okay, I’ll tell everyone you’re on your way,” Rose says, looking a little bit disapprovingly at her mother. “Come on, Scorpius.”

“She is so much like you,” Draco whispers in her ear.

“At times, yes, and painfully so.” They take the last few sips and place the glasses down on the nearest table. They are nearing the crowd, and they can see her family.

“Ready?” he asks her.

“Don’t let me go until we are with my family.”

“Are you sure?”

“As far as they all know, we are in-laws supporting our children.”

“Alright,” he says to her. “I didn’t say this yet, but you look beautiful tonight.” It is something he has been waiting a lifetime to tell her.

“Thank you. You also look very handsome, as well. Also, the fact you haven’t let yourself go like my husband makes you even more attractive.” All the drinking is taking effect on Hermione now. "I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I haven’t had sex in over a year.”

“Minister Granger, you’re making me blush. Are you extending an invitation? Because I don’t know how well I’ll perform after being out of service for over a decade.” They both are laughing when they walk up to her family and their children.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asks the two of them.

Hermione, reluctantly, let’s go of Draco’s arm and takes Ron’s. “Oh, just that Draco and I have drunk at least five hundred pounds worth of whisky already.”

“I just don’t get whisky. What’s wrong with a pint?”

“Weasley, you need to learn to appreciate how beautifully complex whisky becomes with age. It needs to be savored and enjoyed after being treated with longing and patience.”

“Nah, mate, I’ll just take an ale.” Ron is completely clueless that Draco has taken a jab at him. Hermione, apparently, catches the suggestion as her other hand brushes Draco’s hand. Their pinkies lock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who caught the symbolism?  
> There is a reason that the drink they share is whisky (when it is Scotch, no e like in whiskey). In the process of making whisky, you start with grain/seeds, then becomes sour, then goes through process of process of distillation removing impurities, then it matures in barrels. The longer it matures, the more layered the flavors are. Then at just the right time, you tap the barrel and the whisky is finally ready. You sip it, you savor it, and realize it was worth the wait.


	2. Creep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to sixth year after Gryffindor wins their first match of the season. Hermione has her fair share of secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cormac was never a fully realized character in the books or films. I get it. There are only so many well-developed characters you can put in a story, especially when from Harry’s POV. When I watched the Riot Club a few months ago, Douglas Booth’s character, Harry, seemed like he could be Cormac. Rich, influential family, extreme nepotism, athletic, and charming. It would have to take someone that good looking and confident to woo our Hermione. 
> 
> Let us not forget; you can interpret Gryffindor traits in not so heroic ways. Courage can be the ability to speak freely and frankly, even if brutally honest. Daring can be the capacity to take a chance when no one else would, sometimes reckless. You can also define Nerve as audacity or arrogance. Chivalry can just be having good manners and brought up well.

## October 1996

“That completely thick git and daft slag deserve each other,” Hermione grumbles as she and Harry head back to the common room. She just came from the girls' bathroom where she splashed some water on her face and did her best to wipe away the tears.

Harry keeps his arm around her shoulders. He absolutely hates being in this position. Ron finally found his confidence, but Hermione lost hers. They walk in silence because there is nothing else to say. They were both on the losing end of unrequited love, but at least they had each other.

As they pass through the portrait, there is a group of seventh years, and it was almost curfew. Since there are no other prefects around, Hermione tells Harry, “Hey, go ahead and get to bed. I'm going to remind them it's almost lights out.”

“Yeah sure. I'll see you in the morning,” Harry responds.

She walks towards the group about to scold them when she hears a familiar voice speak up, “Hey Granger. Don't send us to bed, yet. Have a drink first. You're seventeen, right?” It was Cormac McLaggen. He was easy on the eyes — handsome with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, chiseled cheek and jawbones, and even underneath those school robes; she could tell he had an athlete’s body. If only he weren't so self-absorbed, self-important, and lazy with his studies.

“Yes, Cormac. I'm seventeen. But come on. Haven't you all celebrated enough?” She looks around at all the empty bottles, glasses, and wrappers. He’s sitting with a few friends, and it seems that Cormac is the only one not coupled up.

“Come on, Hermione. One drink. It looks like you need it.” He must be able to tell she’s been crying and is already pouring the fire whisky into a glass, pleading to her with puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine. One glass.” She reluctantly takes a seat next to him, but eagerly takes the glass and sips it. The warmth it gives her insides might be worth having to converse with Cormac.

While drinking, he must have given his friends some cue because they are now getting up to head to bed, leaving just the two of them on the sofa. _Great, what have I gotten myself into,_ she thinks to herself.

“So, I haven't really had a chance to talk to you outside of Slug Club, and you tend to hide in the library where chatting is off-limits. Are you trying that hard to avoid me?” Okay, maybe Cormac is more clever than he lets on. “I know you're into Weasley, but it looks like he doesn't want to return your affections.”

She is completely thrown off by his keen observation and equally frustrated at the mention of Ron’s name. “How could you tell?”

“I have been trying to get your attention since I saw you in Diagon Alley over the summer. Let’s just say that I’ve been studying your mannerisms and looking for an opportunity,” he openly admits to her that he is the hunter and she, his prey. “There is something in that pretty head of yours that won’t let you linger on me for too long. I’ve caught you checking me out a few times.”

“You're awfully full of yourself,” she's uncomfortable with how honest and aware he is. He's also very forward. It's as if he is the personification of Gryffindor traits heightened to the Nth degree.

“But you didn't deny it.” He moves closer to her and refills her glass and his own.

 _So this is the game he wants to play?_ “I won't deny it. It's no secret I have a thing for Quidditch players. You remember my ex, Viktor, right?”

He doesn't even flinch. She thought mentioning a world-class athlete would rattle him, but it does quite the opposite. His smile broadens. “Maybe that's part of the problem. You're going after someone who is nowhere near the level of Krum. I'm sure you didn't realize it at the time, but you set a pretty high bar for yourself. Going after someone like Weasley is slumming it.”

Hermione is still too mad at Ron to come to his defense. Maybe it’s the fire whisky starting to take effect because she's now just getting lost in his features. This conversation isn’t the most intellectually stimulating, but he is giving off some serious vibes that are luring her in. “Oh really? And you think you’re in the same league as Viktor?”

“I may not have made the team—I'm sure that was Potter giving me a taste of my own medicine and favoring his friend.” It’s no secret that Cormac plays his part when it comes to nepotism and using his connections to his advantage. He licks his lips before he says, “Granger, you know on paper, I’m a better catch. Yes, Weasley and I are both in the same house, purebloods, and his marks are no better than mine, but that is where the similarities end. You try to hide your upbringing, but I hear it when you speak, and in the way you carry yourself. I’ve seen you at the dinner table repulsed by his lack of manners and tact. You’ll never admit it out loud, but you want someone with refinement, or that can at least fake it, someone with the right people to help support your causes and agenda, and someone with enough confidence to challenge you while still being supportive.”

She thinks about what he is saying, and there is some truth to it. She would like to believe she is better than being wrapped up in classist ideology, but Ronald’s table manners were abhorrent, and being in Slug Club had shown her that making alliances now would propel your future career. _If only he weren't so smarmy. How is it that he is making me so angry it makes me want to kiss him? Is this what Malfoy would be like if he were a Gryffindor? Ugh, now why am I thinking about Draco Malfoy?_

Hermione pulls herself back together and says, “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you? I hate to break it to you, but there are so many more layers to me than just that. What I’m looking for isn’t just what’s on paper, and you're not really what I call boyfriend material.” She looks him up and down and thinks, there is no chance of a relationship here. He can read her a little too well, and a girl needs her secrets. On the other hand, he does look like a perfect plaything and one that would most definitely make Ron jealous.

He comes in close and whispers in her ear, “Who said anything about ‘boyfriend'?” He then kisses behind her ear and down her neck, and she begins to purr.

“Oh, really? Is that what you want this to be? No strings attached? We can just enjoy each other's company?” She's trying to keep the upper hand, and the moral high ground, but the soft kisses are tearing down her defenses. It also has been a very long time since she’s had a proper snog.

He stops, looks her in the eyes, and says with a sly grin, “If that's what you want.”

Hermione thinks it over, and with a devilish look in her eye says, “That could work.”

Cormac takes that as an invitation and crawls over her. She doesn't resist and reclines her body backward into the sofa. Their lips part, inviting their tongues to slip past. Electricity runs through her body. His lips are so soft, and the tingle from the alcohol adds to the effect. He has his flaws, but kissing is not one.

Fueled by jealousy, tension, the thrill of a secret tryst, and teenage hormones, they went from soft and gentle pecks to aggressive and deep kissing and nibbles, working their way up to over-the-clothes fondling. Hermione finally cut Cormac off before he went too far—they were still in the common room, after all. She then pushes him off and says, “That was fun. Let's do it again sometime.”

Cormac grabs her by the wrist as she walks away and pulls her back to his lap. With her back is to his chest, he wraps his arms around her waist. He then buries his face in her hair looking for her ear and whispers, “When?” And continues kissing her neck.

“Tomorrow after dinner I have prefect rounds.” A plot starts to formulate in her head, “Meet me on the seventh floor near the large tapestry.”

“I'll be there.” He kisses her mouth vigorously once more before letting her go.

She gives him a smile and says, “Goodnight, Cormac.”

—xoxox—

The next night after dinner, Hermione says goodbye to Harry. She’s still not on speaking terms with Ron. As she walks out of the Great Hall, she very discreetly runs her fingers across Cormac’s shoulders letting him know that he should probably follow her.

He manages to keep a safe distance. She occasionally stops to speak to different people in the halls while he keeps walking forward; it’s as if he’s had more than his share of secret romances.

As Hermione nears the tapestry, Draco Malfoy approaches her. With a disdainful sneer he says through gritted teeth, “Granger, I’m patrolling this area tonight.”

“Malfoy, calm down. I was just passing through.” She lies to him. _The Room of Requirement would have been perfect_ , she thinks to herself and keeps walking forward, knowing full well there are a few other empty classrooms that could work.

Draco watches her as she passes, and his hardened face relaxes. He’s mesmerized by her curls and they way they bounce when she walks. She’s not wearing her robes, and he can see her skirt swish and the back of her legs. _Snap out of it!_ He reminds himself she is off limits and he has work to do. He walks past the wall, once, twice, and—Who is that coming down the hall?

His eyes follow McLaggen who is going in the same direction as Granger. Cormac turns his head to look at Draco as he passes and raises his eyebrows with a mischievous smirk. Draco thinks, _Could he be following her? No. She and him? Never. He’s an idiot._ Draco walks by a third time, and the door appears. He looks around to make sure no one else is around and walks inside.

—xoxox—

After a few weeks of secretly snogging in corners and empty classrooms, they are getting to the point where they would like to enjoy some more stimulating... _conversation_ , and that would require privacy. Hermione has been following Draco’s post dinner habits, and he’s been claiming the seventh floor for patrol at the same time every night. She thinks, maybe, they should try another time of day; that way they can avoid Malfoy and finally get into the room. Luckily, she and Cormac share a free period.

When they meet near the entrance, Draco is nowhere in sight. She walks past three times, flashing Cormac a cheeky smile as the door appears. She takes him by the hand and leads the way.

—xoxox—

Draco jumps as he hears the door opening. He didn’t think anyone could get into the Room of Requirement if it were already in use. The legend states that the other user would have to have a similar purpose.

—xoxox—

Hermione is disappointed as the Room didn’t tailor itself to her needs right away. It was full of centuries of junk. _Well, this is a magical room._ There must be some reason it let them in this state. Suddenly, a comfy seating area forms in front of them. Magic can be so unpredictable and mysterious.

—xoxox—

Draco hears movement. He tucks himself behind a cabinet trying to get a better view of the room. He looks around to find the source of the noises and can't believe his eyes—it's Granger and McLaggen.

—xoxox—

“We’re finally alone,” Cormac says to Hermione. He’s been enjoying the secrecy but is even more excited that they will finally be going public at Slughorn’s party.

Hermione smirks, “I know. Come here.” She pulls Cormac by his tie and slips it off. She struggles a little with his jumper and slowly unbuttons his collared shirt

—xoxox—

Draco’s eyes are glued and gulps hard as he sees the seductive look on Hermione’s face. He's never seen her look like this before. It's so sexy. She pulls her jumper and tie off and starts undoing her buttons. Draco is breathing heavily in anticipation. What does she look like under those layers? Cormac impatiently tears her shirt open sending buttons everywhere, one of which flies and hits Draco in the face. Not even thinking, he picks up the button and puts it in his pocket.

—xoxox—

“You better repair that later,” Hermione scolds him in a flirtatious manner.

“Why should I? I think the whole school should be blessed with these tits,” he laughs as he slides his hand inside her shirt.

“Merlin,” Draco whispers under his breath. He sees her smooth, flat belly and pert breasts constrained by a lace, flesh-toned bra, and his mind begins to race. _Why is this happening now and why can't I stop watching? Wait. McLaggen must be Granger’s secret and wants it hidden. That must be how they got into The Room of Hidden Things._

Draco sees Hermione laughing as she pulls Cormac on top of her. Watching her with him stirs something in his gut — jealousy.

_What’s so great about McLaggen? Why does he get to be her dirty, little secret? There is nothing McLaggen has that I don’t have. I could be her secret, and I would do it a lot better than that. Malfoy, you idiot, stop staring at them. You’re in this room to complete a task or you, and possibly your mother, will be murdered. Did you forget about that? Oh, but look at her skin, the arch of her back, and the faces she makes. No! She’s a mudblood. Not even worthy of you. You’ve also been awful to her for five years, do you really think she’d ever think of you as anything other than her bully?_

The voices in Draco’s head battle each other, but his stare is still engaged in watching the show. He feels his trousers getting tighter the longer he watches. Cormac then buries his head under Hermione’s skirt and pulls her panties off with his teeth. They are the same nude lace that matches her bra. Cormac then flips Hermione’s skirt up. Seeing her fully exposed is just too much for Draco. He bumps into one of the tall stacks of hidden objects, and the noise alerts Hermione and Cormac of Draco’s presence.

Hermione tries to cover herself and yells, “Malfoy!”

Cormac sends a stunning spell at Draco sending him backward hitting his head onto the cabinet.

“Cormac! What did you do? You just attacked a school prefect! He could have a concussion.” Hermione gets up and forgets her shirt is wide open and runs to Draco to make sure he’s alright. She sits next to him and gently takes his head in her lap. She has never seen him look so helpless, and worries he might be seriously injured. Cormac took a cheap shot. When Draco’s face is relaxed and not sneering at her, he is quite handsome. She runs her hand through his silky hair looking for bumps and softly taps his cheek trying to wake him up. “Draco. Draco. Are you alright?”

His eyes open to see Hermione Granger looking over him and her breasts are so close to his face, and he’s not quite sure what is going on. Hermione sighs with relief that he is at least semi-conscious.

“Granger?” He must be dreaming, so he reaches his hand to her face and then drags the back of his hand down her chin, neck, cleavage, and navel and then opens his hand to feel her flat stomach. Hermione is so thrown off by his actions; she flushes and goose pimples form on her skin. Between what is going on in her mind and her body’s physical reaction, she is unsure what to say or do.

“Draco. You hit your head. What did you see? What do you remember?”

“You. Your legs. Your beautiful breasts,” he haphazardly gropes her to her shock, “Your pretty lingerie. You're so sexy. I don't really hate you. Do you hate me? Why him? I’m so much smarter and better than him.” Draco then turns his head toward her and begins kissing her belly. 

Hermione gasps in shock and can see Cormac getting furious and jealous.

“He has obviously hit his head too hard but remembers some of what he’s seen. I don’t want you to get in trouble for attacking him, and who knows what kind of rumors he’ll spread, so I’m going to erase part of his memory.” Part of her wants to forget this awkward encounter, too. She’s not turned off by Draco’s actions enough to want to push him off her lap. In fact, she seems quite the opposite—which is a big problem. She’s never been this close to him and can smell his cologne, and it’s slightly intoxicating. “Cormac, can you please get me my wand?”

Cormac walks away in a huff. He was finally going to get further with Granger, and now she’s tending to Malfoy.

Draco starts to come to and is somewhat aware of what's going on but continues to pretend to be dazed. He reaches over to touch her legs and finds her panties stuck by static to her wool knee socks and tucks them into his pocket. How much more can he get away with if Granger still thinks he’s just acting loopy from the concussion? He tries to sneak his hand under her skirt, but she knocks it away. _Okay, maybe not that far. She smells of flowers and green apples. She is like reading a book under a tree on a summer’s day in the country. How can she smell like a feeling? Why can’t I have her? Why can’t I let myself have her?_

Cormac hands Hermione her wand, “Thank you, Cormac. So after I do this, we have to take him to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Can’t we just leave him out in the hall and wait for one of his friends to find him and we pick up where we left off?” Hermione thinks about it but knows it’s not the right thing to do.

“No. He needs medical attention straight away.” She puts Draco’s head back down on the ground, and he gives a moan of displeasure. Hermione repairs her shirt, but some of the top buttons are missing. Then she summons the rest of their clothes and walks over to Cormac. “Hey, with that one in hospital, the room will be free tonight. We can try again.” A smile creeps across his face, and he gives her a kiss. As they go through the clothes, she can’t find her underwear. 

It doesn’t take them long to get dressed, and Draco is almost entirely conscious. Hermione walks over to him and says, “I’m sorry Draco.”

Draco doesn’t want to forget any of it, even if it was hazy. She held him. He touched her. “Wait! No. Don’t.”

“ _Obliviate._ ”

—xoxox—

Draco wakes up in the hospital wing with what feels like the worst hangover of his life. How did he get here? What happened? Why does he have a bump on the back of his head? The last thing he remembers is being in the Room of Requirement trying to mend the vanishing cabinet.

Madam Pomfrey brings him his dinner as he slept through most of the day. Once she gives him a few more potions and the all-clear, he heads back towards the seventh floor to look for clues. He checks his pocket and finds a button and some lacy panties. Now he was beyond confused. He plays with the fabric in his pocket unconsciously and bumps into Hermione. Neither of them was paying attention where they were going. He doesn’t say anything but looks down at her guilt-ridden face. She’s also missing buttons from her shirt and not wearing her Gryffindor tie. He can’t help but look down her shirt and see her bra peeking through—it’s the same material as the panties in his pocket.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Draco. Let me get out of your way. I heard you went to hospital. Are you okay?” Hermione sounds concerned, which strikes Draco as odd.

“I’m fine. I just feel a bit out of sorts.” Draco stares, trying to read her expressions. _Why does she look so guilty? Could we have fooled around? That would be too good to be true._

“Sorry to hear. I’ll be going now.” She feels her face flush and walks away quickly before he notices.

Draco brushes it off and doesn’t press her for questions. He carefully pulls the panties out of his pocket. Almost instantly, someone snatches them out of his hands. “Hey!” he exclaims.

Cormac wears a very satisfied grin and fondles the lace possessively. “Sorry Malfoy, but it looks like you stole these from my girl.”

“Excuse me? _Your_ girl?” The two young men stand face-to-face with a similar peacocking arrogance. Cormac looks at Malfoy and sees him as a threat. Their families don’t exactly run in the same circles, but all the wealthy, influential purebloods know each other. They have more in common than they would like to admit — they’re attractive, confident, understand how to play the game of life, and apparently, have eyes for the same girl. Cormac was planning on keeping Hermione’s secret, but he’s compelled to let Malfoy know. His possessive nature takes over. It’s all part of the language of spoiled children — you can’t have what’s mine.

“She doesn’t know it yet, but she will be. We’re just having fun now, and I know she’ll come around.”

“Who are we talking about and how exactly did those come into my possession?”

“Hermione erased your memory because you caught us in the Room of Requirement. She was trying to protect me from getting into trouble." Cormac is enjoying seeing the stupid look on Draco's face. "Well, as I was about to take mine and Hermione's relationship to the next level, we discovered what a perv you are, and you'd been spying on us. I’m surprised we didn't catch you wanking. Being interrupted didn't set well with me, so I knocked you out with a nice stupefy. It was pretty bad, so she felt guilty and started tending to you.”

“Well, now that you told me, what makes you think I won't give you detentions and deduct house points right now?”

“You won’t do that.”

“Give me a good reason.”

“Because when you were semi-conscious, you basically admitted you fancied her and groped her.” Cormac loves rubbing all of this in, especially seeing Malfoy slack-jawed. “She let you get away with it, mostly because she felt sorry for you and thought your mumbling was just nonsense caused by a hit to the head.”

“Excuse me?” Draco tries to play off this scenario is utterly preposterous. _I groped Granger and can’t remember it?!? I will get those memories back, dammit._ “I won’t report you or Granger. Just stay out of Room of Requirement. I’m working on a project in there and mustn’t be disturbed.”

“Not a problem. I would prefer not to have an audience next time.” He spins the panties around his finger then tucks them into his pocket.

Draco heads into the room and walks toward the cabinet. He sits on the floor with his head in his hands and thinks, _this has to be the worst year of my life. Why can’t anything go right?_ The door opens once again, and he looks up. It's Granger. She looks around for something until she spots her tie. After picking it up, she sees Malfoy sitting on the floor and walks over to him.

“Cormac just let me know he told you everything. That idiot. Why did I even bother erasing your memory?”

“Granger. I’m furious. I should report you. Anyway. Why even take such drastic measures? If it was just a bit of snogging and heavy petting, it's nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Well, if you’ve seen it all before, why ogle Cormac and me? You could have interrupted long before I was half-naked.” He can’t think of a clever rebuttal, especially since he has no recollection of the incident. She pushes him a little further and points her wand at his crotch, which ends up being a bit of a turn-on. “Oh, I saw how excited you were. I bet you planned on watching the whole show while taking care of yourself in the process.”

“Shove off Granger and just give me my memory back.”

“Fine. Since you already know most of what happened, I might as well.”

His heart starts pounding as she moves closer to him and the thoughts of what these memories could contain. She raises her wand and mutters the incantation, but it doesn't work. “Granger. Nothing happened.”

“Damn. Let me try again.” Again, to no results.

“Well, it looks like we found a spell Hermione Granger can’t do. I can use legilimency. I’m not that great at it yet, so you don’t need to worry about me snooping around.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“What options do you have? You can either share the memory with me, or we can go to a teacher, and they’ll help me get it back, and perfect Prefect Granger can deal with the consequences.”

She thinks about it carefully and realizes she doesn’t have much choice. “I can share my memory with you but don't dig too far. I shouldn't trust you, but I’ll do the honorable thing and fix my wrongs.”

 _She’s always so self-righteous,_ he thinks to himself. She puts her forehead to his while he whispers the incantation. The memories from earlier that day start flooding his mind, but not just that, but her emotions and reactions. She was worried about him and took care to make sure he wasn't injured. She was gentle with him, and his touch made her shiver. He stopped himself when he felt like he had enough of the day's memories, but then she projected something. It was the two of them. Right here and now, and she wanted to be kissed. He put his wand down, opened his eyes and met hers. She looked alarmed as she knew she had let something slip through. He smiled and said, “That last part can be our little secret.” He pressed his lips up against hers and savored it. He had imagined this moment a million times. They were locked in a kiss that felt like time stopped. It was forbidden. He takes her in his arms to feel her up against him. Her soft, pliable lips are a welcome distraction. All of the hate, fear, and tension melt as they surrender to each other. She emits a soft whimper, and he tastes her salty tears.

“No. I can't do this. This is wrong.” Hermione pulls away and forces herself to regain her composure. Draco is afraid of what is going to happen next. She turns her face away and thinks to herself, _It’s Ron I care about, even though he has someone else. Being with Cormac is just physical, but I know he wants something more, and I can't give it to him. Draco will do the same thing to me that I’m doing to Cormac. I’ll only ever be his secret._ “You and me? This is ridiculous. Like one kiss will erase everything you’ve done to me. No. That was a mistake. We both know it. Draco, please, I need you to erase my memory from the moment after I shared mine.”

“I don't have to erase your memory. We can just move on like nothing ever happened.” He doesn't want her to forget. If she remembers this moment, there could be more. Maybe not now, maybe not this year, or even twenty years. One day.

“Please, I don’t want to remember this, and I can't do it to myself, and I know you are the only other student at this school with enough control to do it accurately.”

“Come on, Granger. Everyone at this school has snogged someone they regret. It’s not that big of a deal. Was it really that bad?” He knows it has nothing to do with his skills, but wants to hear it from her.

“Of course it wasn’t bad. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean ‘That’s the problem.’”

“God, you actually want me to say it. Malfoy, you’re a miserable git who has been nothing but awful to my friends and me almost the entire time we’ve been at school. That kiss—” She pauses as she feels her heart pounding, “That kiss will change everything. It will change how we feel about each other. It will change our friends and alliances. We will never be able to look at each other again without thinking about it. Are you really willing to change everything you believe in and everything that defines you on one kiss?”

Her words resonate with him. She’s right. They weren’t just a boy and a girl kissing someone regrettable. They are two players on opposite sides of a war. No, he wasn’t ready to change everything about himself or his beliefs; more so, he was afraid of what would happen to him if he even tried.  

“I’ll do it,” he half-heartedly agrees as he wipes a few of the remaining tears from her face. Draco points his wand and thinks very carefully about what he wants to erase from her memory. He vanishes the memories of the kiss, the crying, and the conversation, but leaves her desire to kiss him.

As if nothing happened, she looks up, and he says, “Thank you for sharing your memories. Don't forget your tie.”

“Thank you, and you’re welcome. I'm sorry I erased your memory in the first place.” She walks away and feels the tears that Draco hadn’t managed to wipe away on her stained cheeks. There is a sadness and longing in her heart that she cannot quite understand. She rationalizes what is most likely weighing on her heart and mind is Cormac and decides to end their arrangement after Slughorn’s Christmas party.

As she walks away, he aches for her. He thought any attraction he had to her was superficial. Experiencing her emotions then the rejection, added another layer to his already complicated life. She said she couldn't forgive him. With what he is assigned to do, she may never forgive him. He rests his head against the cabinet he is tasked to repair and projects all of his emotions to his center, down his arm, and through his wand. They say love is the most powerful form of magic. Let's see how powerful unrequited love is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a review. I’m also on tumblr: harrypotterandthegobletofwine and Facebook: saintdionysuswriter.


	3. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a section that I used Google Translate, so if you speak one of those languages and need to correct me, I’m more than happy to take your advice. Enjoy.
> 
> Beta Love: Mama2HPBabies

## March 2030

It was unimaginable. This woman, this beautiful, impossible woman with so much love in her heart had found forgiveness in him before he found it in himself. Not only that; she is standing next to him with their little fingers interlocked. He wonders what she could be thinking about.

“Minister Granger! Mr. Malfoy!” a voice from behind them calls. Their fingers quickly unlink, and they turn around.

“Cho, please, you only need to call me that at official functions. This is a social event,” Hermione tells the party planner.

“Sorry, Hermione. Now that you are finally here, we can do the welcome speeches and the customary first dance for the couple and the parents.” Her approach feels a bit passive aggressive. There is twinge of annoyance and stress in her voice, hinting at the fact she had been impatiently waiting for them. In the same right, she holds her tongue not wanting to be the one to boss the Minister of Magic around.

“First Dance?” Hermione asks, brushing off Cho's slight attitude, “This is only an engagement party, not the actual wedding.”

“It’s a wizarding tradition. I know that you and Ron went with a more traditional muggle engagement party and wizarding wedding,” She says very matter-of-factly.

“I see. Okay, we’re all here. Draco, do you have your speech prepared?” Hermione asks.

He pats around his jacket, “Right here.”

“Draco, you don’t have your dance partner listed on the agenda. Who are you planning on dancing with?”

He honestly hadn’t given it any thought. “I wasn’t planning on dancing and just wanted to say something in memory of my wife.”

“I’m so sorry for being so insensitive, Draco,” Cho apologizes profusely.

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. Astoria has been gone for over a decade now,” Draco reassures her.

“Malfoy, I’m absolute rubbish at dancing,” Ron interjects, attempting to be friendly, but also trying to avoid making an arse of himself. “Why don’t you and Hermione dance together. It will be all that symbolic stuff Hermione keeps talking about bridging gaps, burying hatchets, joining families and such.”

Hermione and Draco’s eyes lock for a moment, and they are a bit breathless at the thought. She can feel her face starting to turn a little red, “It would be an honor if you would have me, Draco.”

His lip curls into a half-smile and says, “I would be delighted to have you.” Her chest begins to pound at his words. She doesn’t know if it was intentional, but he draws out his response out in a very sexy way.

Unaware of the underlying tension, Cho grabs Rose and Scorpius, “Okay, you two, you stand right here until the band leader calls you to the dance floor. Draco and Hermione, you follow me in just a moment to the stage. You’ll give your speeches, decide amongst yourself who will go first; then I’ll make you the cue to join Rose and Scorpius. Then the band leader will invite everyone else. Any questions?”

“Thank you, but no. Everything sounds simple enough,” Draco says to her.

Cho starts walking away and sees her ex-boyfriend, “Harry.”

“Cho,” he acknowledges her but feels incredibly awkward for some reason. He walks over to Hermione. “Really, of all the event planners, you had to hire my ex-girlfriend?”

With a bit of drunkenness, Hermione loses a some of her patience, “Oh get over yourself, Harry. You haven’t dated in thirty-five years. She’s the best in the business and incredibly brilliant. When she married a muggle, she realized there was a massive need in the industry for a planner who knows logistics and traditions with mixed-magical ability families. Granted, the only muggles in attendance at the wedding will be by my parents and my great aunt. She’s incredibly talented, and I have used her for all of all the Ministry’s galas. Honestly, Harry, this wedding is the joining of the Minister for Magic’s daughter to one of the most prestigious wizarding families. You don’t just let that to chance. You can hire whomever you want when Lily gets married.” Draco licks his lips and lets out a chortle. He has been on the receiving end of one of Hermione’s rants, but he does enjoy seeing Potter receive it a lot more.

“Fine. Point taken, Minister.” Harry knows when he can’t win an argument with Hermione and just backs off. “Wait. Where is Albus?”

“Of course,” Scorpius scoffs. He looks across the room and sees Scorpius trying to be smooth. “He’s chatting up my cousin, Arabella. Probably telling her all about his travels to France and his knowledge of fine French cuisine.”

“She's Daphne and Theo's daughter.” Draco points out his niece and in-laws.

“Arabella went to Beauxbatons. Three years older than me. Seriously, his thing with older women. At least he has standards now. Rose, remember the slags he used to dig up,” Scorpius shakes his head. His best friend had a penchant for falling for older women who were either way out of his league or bad news. More recently, Albus has made some improvements and has been going after women with more sophisticated tastes yet rebellious attitudes.

“Oh, they were the worst,” Rose recalls some of her cousin’s less than admirable moments, “We should probably do something about that, Scorpius.”

“Let’s focus on us getting married first, okay?” Scorpius gives Rose a kiss. He still can’t believe she’s been with him all these years and waited so patiently for him to propose.

With an air of concern, Ginny speaks up, “Enough teasing Albus about his poor choices in women. Scorpius, how does your family feel about this situation? You marrying a half-blood?”  

“I honestly don’t give a damn. They showed up, so that must mean something,” Scorpius says. Rose looks at her fiancé with pride and overwhelming affection, then gives him another kiss.

“Oh,” says Hermione, “Cho’s giving us the signal. Let’s go, Draco.” He presents his arm, and they walk up to the stage.

The band leader takes the mic, “Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome. Can you please make room so that the bride and groom-to-be can take the dance floor.” Scorpius very gallantly bows to Rose, takes her hand, kisses it, and leads her to the center. There is polite clapping, except for all the male members of the Potter-Weasley clan who are hooting, hollering, and wolf whistling. Rose could murder her brother and cousins. She has her wand tucked into her sleeve and is very tempted to throw a gust of wind their way, but Scorpius catches her. He gives her a look and shakes his head. “Now a welcome from the Mother of the Bride, Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger.”

Before she speaks, there is more polite clapping, but no raucous behavior from the boys. Hermione sees her sisters-in-law in full helicopter parent mode. Despite the “kids” being in their late early to mid-twenties, when they get together, they become something akin to Quidditch hooligans. She hopes she isn’t too drunk to deliver a speech.

“Good evening, Ladies, Gentlemen, friends, and family. Tonight we celebrate the engagement of my daughter, Rose, to a very special young man, Scorpius. I want to save some good anecdotes for the wedding speech, but I will share this one. As we were sending Rosie away for her first year at Hogwarts, Ron told her to stay away from Scorpius Malfoy. Being my daughter, any time a man tells a woman not to do something, that is exactly what she is going to do.” The crowd laughs, and she passes a smile to Ron and then to Draco. “It was only natural that Rose would fall for the boy we told her not to and I’m sure her cousin had something to do with it—Albus.” Another round of laughs. She shoots a look to her nephew, and James and Hugo are clapping him on the back. Hermione’s ability to command a crowd has only improved since becoming a politician; the guests are quite enjoying the Minister’s jovial speech. “But Scorpius proved to be intelligent, resourceful, loyal, brave, wonderfully nerdy — a boy after my own heart and honestly the absolute perfect match you could ask for your daughter. So let’s raise a glass to the happy couple and pray I don’t go bankrupt planning this wedding. Cheers.” The clinking of glassware echoes through the halls. Draco gives her a very impressed smirk.

Draco moves toward the microphone and takes the cards out of his jacket. “I should have gone first — never follow a politician.” Draco is proving he can be just as charismatic if he wanted to be. “Welcome to my home. Stay a while. It honestly looks more festive with three hundred people than the usual two people and some house elves.” The joke falls flat. He thinks to himself, time to turn this around and cut out all the jokes. He clears his throat, “Scorpius, my only child. I am so proud of the man you have grown into, but most of all, that you have your mother’s, heart.” There are a few resounding ‘awws’ in the crowd. “When you were young, your mother and I worked persistently never to let hate or prejudice enter that heart. Because of that, when you found love, you never had to deny it or ever fear to present Rose to me. Your mother would be so proud you found your match. Intelligent and beautiful, she consistently challenges you to be a better version of yourself. But Astoria would have had an issue with her being a Gryffindor chaser. Oh, your mother was a fervent Quidditch fan, maybe even more than me.” The crowd starts to get a bit rowdy at the mention of Quidditch. A few of the guests had begun chanting the names of their old houses. He knows he’s turned it around after that. “Rose Granger-Weasley, the way you love my son, is the kind of love that you can only learn through experience. Though we have had disagreements in the past, love of family is something the Weasleys have plenty. Thank you for welcoming Scorpius into your great family. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, hold her tight and don’t ever let her go. Thank you everyone, and please enjoy the rest of the party. Cheers.” There is a roar from the crowd and a very smug smile from Hermione.  

“Now wasn’t that fantastic? Mr. Malfoy, are you sure you aren’t in politics, too?” The band leader jokes, “Now for the traditional first dance.” A very traditional instrumental waltz comes on, and Scorpius is leading Rose through a very intricate choreography, and Hermione is thoroughly impressed.

“Scorpius is a very talented dancer.” Hermione leans over to tell Draco.

“I taught him, and my father taught me. My parents were hateful people, but they sure could dance.” She looks at him with a look of terror at what type of dancing they will be doing in a moment.

“Minister, Mr. Malfoy, can you please join your daughter and son?” the band leader gestures to them.

“You mustn’t worry. I’ll lead you,” Draco tells Hermione as he takes her hand in his and escorts her down the stairs. When they reach the dance floor, he guides her hand onto his shoulder and his hand on her hip. When they begin dancing, it’s as if she is floating. He knows how to lead her and direct her body. It’s the most natural she’s ever felt on a dance floor. She can’t help but lock eyes with him and put all her trust in his movements.

From the crowd, it looks as though the two couples are twins on a twenty-five-year delay.

Ginny whispers to Ron, “Draco is quite the dancer. Who knew?”

“Yeah.” Ron is suddenly unsure of his decision to let his wife dance with Malfoy. He can see it on her face—she is enjoying this experience. Ron hates to admit it but doesn’t think he’s ever made Hermione happy dancing. The song is coming to a close and Ron is marching over to make sure he has the next dance with his wife.

“Everyone, please join the happy couple and their parents on the dance floor,” The band leader says to the crowd invitingly. While all the guests rush, eager to dance, Ron gets swept up in the chaos.

Hermione is still dancing with Draco and says to him, “No one has ever swept me off my feet like this.”

“Oh, not even Viktor Krum?” Draco uses his quick wit to recall a moment from their youth in which she danced with one of the most desirable athletes of that time.

“No. I have no idea how Viktor was a seeker. He had much more of a beater’s build. All lumbering and stepping on toes.” They share a laugh.

Draco sees Ron trying to get to them. “I think your husband is trying to make his way to you.”

“I’m letting you take the lead.” He sees this as an invitation, and they begin traveling and twirling across the floor.

“You know you can’t run from him forever.”

“Can’t I?”

“Hermione.”

“He’s only paying me mind because he’s jealous of you.” There is still a bit of the whisky buzz over her. “Jealousy is the only emotional reaction I ever get out of him. He only wants me when he sees me with someone else. Back in school, it was Krum and then McLaggen. He was even jealous of Harry. Ridiculous.”

“Oh, I remember McLaggen.” He recalls a memory of them in the Room of Requirement.

“You remember that? That was quite a day, wasn’t it? Oh, Cormac. I was bored. He was pretty. It made Ron jealous.”

“Seems like you have a thing for Quidditch players, eh?”

“What can I say? I have a type,” She says with a smirk remembering what he looked like in his Quidditch uniform.

He returns the smile. “So how much did you enjoy watching Potter, slaughter me on the pitch?”

“Immensely,” she says playfully. He adjusts his grasp and pulls her in tightly. “You know Ron wasn’t supposed to make the team? I used the Confundus Charm on McLaggen at tryouts.”

“I knew he was incapable of making the team on his own.”

“Oh! What about Daddy paying your way onto the team?”

“Hey, I still had some skills and won against the other houses.” They share a laugh at more innocent memories of their former rivalry. They look around and find Ron still trying to move through the crowd, but he keeps getting stopped by family.

“Draco, you know Ron and I have been in couples therapy, right?”

“I’ve heard, but I try not to pry.”

“We’ve been going for the past ten years. Ron tried to get me to renew our vows. I said my vows once and was not about to do it again. He said it was because he was too drunk at our wedding to remember. Do you know how stressful weddings are? Why would I need to do that again?”

He laughs while keeping Ron in the corner of his eye. “Well, Astoria and I eloped in the South of France, so all this stressful wedding planning is new to me.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought it would have been a big deal for your family.” Hermione says.

“Oh, it would have been a big deal if Astoria was from a more prominent family. Apparently, being pureblood wasn’t enough for Lucius and Narcissa,” Draco sounds annoyed at the memory of his family not being as accepting of his late wife.

“I’m glad you two found each other, if only for a short while,” Hermione acknowledging Astoria’s effect on Draco is apparent, and it makes him smile.

“Well, other than not wanting to have another wedding, why have you been in therapy? I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t noticed your behavior change in the past few years, but I want to hear it from you.”

“You would think, that if you send your kids off to boarding school, you would have time for each other. Enjoy the quite. Enjoy being alone. Nothing. He was so wrapped up with the company and was always focused on the kids, even when they were at school,” Hermione feels like she is reciting the same thing she does every two weeks with their therapist.

“So are you saying that things aren’t as romantic as they used to be?”

“They were never romantic. Not really. He had his moments. Sometimes I feel like we rushed into marriage. Like it was the natural thing to do after going to war. I’m thankful Rose and Scorpius waited this long to get married, to be honest.”

“Ah, well Scorpius was born a hopeless romantic, so you’ll never have to worry about Rose never feeling loved and cherished. I caught him one summer with stacks of sonnets and the complete works of William Shakespeare studying and taking notes. Then he would practice transfiguring quills into roses.” They both laugh at how sweet Scorpius can be.

“I love that boy. My Rosie is a lucky girl,” Hermione watches Draco smile proudly at her words about his son, “But as far as Ron and me, it’s not just the lack of romance and intimacy. It’s his infinitely large family. Honestly, as an only child, I don’t get why they have to be around all the damn time. It’s overwhelming. They are delightful, don’t get me wrong, but they are everywhere!” They look around and can physically see the peppering of ginger hair throughout the crowd.

“Hey as an only child myself, I get it. I love my solitude. It’s one of the many reasons I was irritable at school.” Draco says with a smirk.

“One of the reasons? Ha!” They look at each other for a while and are surprised no one has interrupted their dance yet. “I'm tired. Ron is so damn oblivious to my feelings and my needs. Of course, my work is demanding and so is his, but I feel I have done everything in my power to make time for us. ”

Draco moves closer to her ear in case of eavesdroppers, “You need to know that I think about you every day. I've imagined how different our lives would be if we were together, and never in that equation would you be so far down my list of priorities.”

 

"Draco—" Her breath catches as yet another confession tumbles from his mouth. A devilish look is growing in her eye and begins looking around, “do you want to get away for a bit?”

He looks around and sees a clearing. “We can head toward the bar, and it’s near a secret passageway.” He grabs her by the hand, and off they go. He sees that Ron was stopped by another one of his brothers and moves more quickly. They breeze past the bar and reach a hutch. Draco pulls one of the door knobs, and the entrance of the passageway opens and closes after them. 

Draco looks around and smiles. “I haven’t been in here since Scorpius was little. The two of us had so much fun exploring all the secret passages together.” 

This Draco, the caring father, while being playful and mischievous with her, is one that she can’t resist. A flame for him is burning stronger as the evening goes on. The very dim flicker she had for her husband has been all but snuffed out.

“Draco,“ She sighs fighting to find the words, "I've been trying to leave him, but I didn’t want to while still in office. I knew counseling wasn’t working. He wasn’t changing.”

“I know you’ve tried a few times. Remember a few months ago, around your birthday? I overheard when I went to Harry and Ginny’s house when I went to drop something off.”

“I wasn’t sure you heard that. But for years, I wanted more—more what? I still don’t know. But something has been missing from our marriage for a long time. But the politics—there’s never been a Minister who had a divorce while in office, but my term is up soon after the wedding. I’m making the official announcement this week that I’m not running for re-election.”

“You’re not running for re-election? Just because of Weasley?”

“It isn’t just that. I’ve been in public service since I was seventeen. I’m exhausted. There is so much of the world I want to see, and not while on a diplomatic mission. I want to explore. My children have grown. I’m at the point that I don’t need to work. I’ve made my money, and I have a pretty decent prenup. There is nothing left obliging me to stay married to him.”

“Can I share something with you?”

“What?”

“How good is your legilimency?”

“Rudimentary, at best.”

“That’s all you’ll need.”

She looks at him curiously and whispers, “ _Legilimens._ ” She sees the stolen kiss, the mutual heartbreak, and her pleading for her memories to be erased.

Hermione opens her eyes and sees the boy who kissed her all those years ago. She touches her hand to his face, and he takes it and kisses it softly. They are looking at each other in the dim light. Something about this feels like a recapture of youth and innocence. They can feel the magnetism of two objects that have been in the same orbit and are about to finally about to collide. The thumping of the music outside is reverberating in their chests. She releases her hands and throws them around his neck and pulls him in to kiss her. Draco has been cautious to make sure she takes the lead and that the decisions are hers to make. His arms wrap around her waist inside the long coat. He moves his hands up her back, so she unzips the front and gives him more room. Her hands ruffle through the back of his hair, down his neck and chest. The passionate kisses are disarming, but he pulls away before it goes too far.

“Not like this,” Draco says, “We mustn’t behave like some school kids running off into corners for stolen moments. I’ve waited too long. When I take you, I want to treat you like the woman you are.”

“Really?” She’s so worked up but sees his point. Whereas Draco has all the patience in the world, she has none. “So what do you propose?”

“You have that European Summit and diplomacy tour, right?”

“Yes? What are you getting at?”

“Do you have a translator?”

“Each host nation is providing one.”

“Hire me. I’m fluent in eight languages.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I needed a hobby while Scorpius was in school.”

“I’m going to Portugal.”

“Quero,” he says in Portuguese and then kisses her.  

“Spain.”

“Hacer el amor contigo,” followed by another kiss

“France.”

“Dans tous les pays,” he now kisses her behind the ear.

“Germany.”

“Auf jedem Kontinent,” a kiss on the neck.

“Greece.”

“Efcharístisi sas,” a kiss on her clavicle.

“Bulgaria.”

“I shte vi dade vsichko,” and a final kiss at the top of her cleavage.

“What did you just say?”

“I want to make love to you in every country, every continent, pleasure you and give you everything.”

“Jesus.” She starts kissing him again then remembers something, “You know they won’t let me hire you unless you take a proficiency test.”

“Easy.”

“Your confidence is so much sexier now than it was when we were younger.” They start kissing again but then hear voices outside calling for their names. “Shit. We need to go back out there. It’s Ron. Where does this passage lead?”

“The bathroom.”

“Perfect. I can just say that’s where I was.” She entwines her fingers with his. “Lead the way.”

When they emerge from the passageway into the bathroom, luckily no one is in there. “You need to leave first. Go ahead and mingle with guests for the rest of the night. Everyone will get suspicious if we only spend time with each other.” She kisses him goodbye.

She takes a moment to freshen up and spray on some more perfume and touch up her lipstick. When she emerges from the bathroom, Ron is waiting for her.

“Hermione. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m sorry. I just need to use the bathroom after drinking so much.”

“Are you okay?” He sounds concerned.

“Yes, but I could use something to eat. Is the buffet opened?”

“Yeah, I already had a few plates.” He pats his bulging gut proudly. This was once an endearing trait of his, but now was just a reminder of how little he cared about her. His contentment was more important than his health and how he presented himself to her. She works so hard maintaining her shape and health, and it’s gone completely unnoticed.

“Okay. I’m going to grab a bite. I’ve been so focused on Rose tonight, how’s Hugo doing?”  

“All the cousins are all having a drunken Quidditch match in the back garden.”

“In their dress robes!?!”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Um…”

“What did your brothers and Harry say?”

“They might be out there with them.”

“Fine. I’ll just let it go.” She was irritated, but hopefully getting some food in her stomach will calm her down. “Did you want to go out with them? Because I have a feeling I’ll be doing a lot of Ministry chat.”

“Kind of. Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Please, just make sure the beaters aren’t so drunk they break Draco’s windows. Better yet, please tell everyone to cast a protection spell around the house.”

“You got it.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off.

She devours the meal as there are several dignitaries and socialites that she needs to entertain—a detail she was happy to push out of her mind while in hiding. She and Draco occasionally catch each other’s glances, smile, and carry on their conversations with others.

The crowds finally dwindle, until only family is left. One of the good things about the Weasley family being so large, is when it's time to clean up, it doesn't take long with the use of some handy household spells. In a snap, Malfoy Manor was pristine once again.

Draco thanks the Weasley Clan for all their help and promises to give his staff the day off. They all hug and say goodbye to each other.

“Rose, are you and Scorpius staying here tonight or the London house?” Hermione asks her daughter.

“The London house. We need to check on the dog,” Rose tells her mother.

“Okay, then you better apparate now. It’s late.” Hermione gives Rose and Scorpius each a kiss and hug.

“Malfoy, great party.” Ron shakes his hand, completely in the dark that Draco spent the good portion of the night wooing his wife.

“You’re welcome,” Draco says with such a steely straight face. Hermione remembers he’s gifted in Occlumency and could be the best person to keep a secret.

“Thank you, Draco.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “So we’ll be meeting about that translation post and also helping the kids with the wedding planning?”

“Yes. I’ll mail your secretary and set up some appointments,” speaking in code. “Good night.”

“Good night,” She says to him while holding Ron’s hand. She looks back to see him one last time, and they disappear out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I fact checked myself and totally forgot Theodore Nott was involved in the time turner thing in CC. I'm glossing over a lot of details from CC including SHE-who-must-not-be-named. It's mostly the characterizations that carried over.


	4. Chasing Pavements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to a few months before our story begins. At this point, Draco has built a strong friendship with Harry, Ginny, and Hermione as their children are part of a new inseparable trio. Also, we discover how deeply the war affected Ron and Hermione’s relationship.
> 
> Strong adult themes of divorce, PTSD, and suggested sexual situations.
> 
> Forever love to my beta: Mama2HPBabies

## September 2029

Dinners together have become painfully quiet. Ron has grown bored discussing politics and Hermione has grown tired of the same old jokes. Without Harry, Ginny, or their children around, trying to find a topic of conversation that didn't cause them to spiral into a screaming match or walk-off became next to impossible. Hermione has been trying hard to help them regain their spark, but she’s not even entirely sure one existed in the first place.

After a few sips of her wine, she says, “My birthday is in a few weeks. I know we have discussed it a few times already, but I really would like for us to go on that Mediterranean cruise. I already have time off and, the boat still has staterooms available. I thought it would be really nice for us to slow down and enjoy ourselves.”

“Hermione. It’s far too expensive. Why would we want to go on some posh muggle boat when it would be much faster and cheaper to just portkey to Greece.” The novelty of muggle travel had worn off for Ron. He’d enjoyed his car until experiencing traffic on the M1 far too many times. The idea of floating in the middle of the ocean on a cruise liner, especially one of the Cunard vessels, really doesn’t appeal to him. “What if you picked one of the fun boats? The ones with the all-you-can-eat buffets and the unlimited cocktails.”

“And all the screaming children? Ronald, I told you how sentimental Cunard lines is to me. My grandparents met on the Britannic and my father proposed to my mother on the QE2.” She’s all but run out of patience. He seems to sweep her family traditions under the rug while always bending to his. “The boats are beautiful and romantic. I just thought maybe some of that could rub off on us.”

“Is there a dinner dress code?”

“Yes. Suits and tuxedos.”

“Forget it.”

“You do know this is the only thing I want for my birthday, right?”

“Why don’t we throw a big party?”

“I don’t want a big party. I don’t want any more attention than I receive on a daily basis. All I want to go is get on a beautiful ship, get away, and savor the moments. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I’ll never understand how you would want to pick stuffy and posh over fun and crazy. Come on. A milestone birthday requires a party. We’ll get all our friends and family together.”

“You are trying to get me to do what you want—not what I want. Must you always do that? Must you always find a way to avoid spending time with me and have us surrounded by other people?”

“We are alone right now? Why do we need to be on a boat to be alone?’

“Don’t you ever want to be alone? Don’t you miss us?” Hermione is trying to be delicate. It’s been several months since their last sexual encounter; possibly around Valentine’s Day. 

“Hermione. You know I’m just not into it, and I hate those pills. ” Ron hates being reminded of his inadequacies.

_Years ago, when the couple was early in their relationship, Ron decided it was best if they would wait for marriage. Hermione thought nothing of it and thought it was just because he was from a traditional family. Sometime during the engagement, she found out from Ginny that he was embarrassed after figuring out that Hermione was more experienced than Ron and it rattled his confidence._

_Ron knew of Krum of course, but her other relationships were the ones that got to him. Cormac McLaggen had been her first, and it was a well-guarded secret. What had started out as a way to get back at Ron, became a runaway train. The relationship ended after Hermione discovered Ron had been poisoned, resulting in the broken hearts of Cormac and Lavender. The breakup also led to Cormac’s disastrous match as reserve keeper. He was so distraught over Hermione he took it out on the whole team including sending Harry to the hospital with a fractured skull._

_After a few years of dating, she and Ron took a break. While visiting her friend, Justin, at Cambridge, she was surprised to find out his flatmate, a muggle named David, was from her old neighborhood. They were close friends before Hermione went off to Hogwarts, but seeing him all grown up in his rugby kit — well a fling was inevitable. She loves an athlete._

_Her wedding night was a bit of a disaster. Ron tried and tried, but couldn’t seem to please his bride. They coughed it up to nerves and Hermione took the lead implementing skills learned from her former flings, as they were excellent teachers. She thought if she could help him relax, he would get out of his head and let his urges take over. It did quite the opposite. He freaked out knowing how skilled she was with her hands and her mouth and the way she knew how to move her body — he started imagining every single man she had been with and how far they went._

_After a month of being married, Hermione suggested she and Ron visit specialists. He checked out completely healthy; he was indeed a young, virile man. Any shortcomings he had were psychosomatic — some of it tied PTSD from the war, and some of it related to a lifetime of insecurities. Doctors prescribed some medication to help with his dysfunction, but it was up to him to learn how to relax and enjoy the moment. He started seeing a therapist to deal with his issues in hopes that he could live a normal life._

_Things got better, he tried to be better with oral techniques and using his hands, but nothing lived up to Hermione’s past experiences. Ron guessed as much by the way she would always plead for more. When it was time to start a family, both of their children had been conceived via IVF as the magical routes they tried didn’t work. Ron’s confidence shrank more and more. He wasn’t able to please his wife. He wasn’t able to sire children. He wasn’t able to create the magic to help this situation and was relying on muggle medicine. Little by little, Ron stopped trying to please his wife knowing that she would never be satisfied._

Ron continues, “What about I get a new toy for your birthday? Would you like that?”

“No Ronald. I don’t want a party. I don’t want a new vibrator. I want you and me on a boat. I’m trying so hard for you to realize that I still want you.” She pauses trying to be patient and understanding, but it’s so difficult when it feels like you’ve had the same conversation over and over. She doesn't raise her voice but says, “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to do anything for my birthday.” She throws her napkin down on the table and stands up, “Excuse me, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

Hermione storms out of the dining room and is walking towards her study. It’s getting so hard for her to remind herself why she loves Ron. The fact she has to rattle off a list in her head, a suggestion from their therapist, just feels ridiculous at this point.

Hugo, her youngest child, just walked through the door. He’s finishing up his residency at St. Mungo’s and is planning on moving out of his parents’ house before the end of the year. His muggle grandparents were so happy to have another medical professional in the family. Though, not a dentist, they were very impressed when he became a healer. He is still wearing his scrubs and healers’ robes. He can the disappointment and fury in his mother’s face — no doubt his mother and father got into it again.

Hugo asks his mother, “Hey Mum. Is there still some dinner left? That shift was exhausting, and I’m famished.”

Hermione faces her son, and her eyes are red and watery. “Yes, Hugo. If you go to the dining room, you can join your father.”

Hugo takes his mother’s arm gently and looks her in the eye, “Have you and Dad been fighting again?”

“We got into an argument about my birthday. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mum, it is a big deal. I never see you happy anymore,” like any son; he’s very protective of his mother. As an adult child, you can now see through your parents' facades; and it is painful. “Just admit it. Therapy isn’t working. Seriously, if you don’t leave Dad soon, I’m, I’m  going to stop talking to both of you. For two completely unhappy people to stay together after all these years is completely insane. It’s downright toxic.” Fed up with the situation, he lets out a sigh, “You know, sometimes, I hate coming home because the negative energy is suffocating. I’d rather pick up another on-call shift, or just hang out at the pub until I know you two have fallen asleep. I get sick to my stomach knowing my memories of you and Dad being unhappy are starting to outweigh the happy memories. I love both of you, but this needs to end, for all of our sakes.”

It takes her a moment to respond to Hugo’s painful, stinging truth, “Hugo, it’s obvious your father, and I don’t make each other happy anymore. We always fight and don’t even seem like friends anymore. Rosie told me the other day she also wants me to leave your dad.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Hugo is much more direct than the rest of his family. He was also almost a hat stall like his mother, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but logic and reasoning won out.  

“I’m worried about your dad being alone. He doesn’t know how to be alone.” Hermione swallows hard, “I’m also afraid by admitting defeat, I failed this family.”

“Mum. Out there, you are Hermione Granger, war heroine, equal rights activist, economic strategist, and Minister of Magic. Here, you are my mother.” He wraps his arms around her and is a good eight inches taller than his mother. “The only way you fail us is by not being true to yourself. Fuck magical traditions and politics. I know you’re scared of what people will think about you getting divorced. But some of my absolute favorite things that you taught Rose and me about our muggle heritage was how to carve our own path and that laws and traditions can be changed. I love how you can knock our pureblood relatives on their arses and make them question everything they know. You’ll do it again, and they will just have to deal.”

“Oh, Hugo. How did you get so smart and mature?” She hugs her son hard and feels a little bit lighter knowing that she had the support of both her children.

“By not being sorted into the house of the reckless hot-heads,” he says with a laugh.

“You’re too clever,” she playfully smacks her son on the arm. “I’m going to visit Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny for a little bit. Let your Dad know if he asks.”

“Bye Mum.”   

_________

Ginny bends over the sink washing the dishes. This is one the most mundane of tasks, but for Harry, watching his wife do the washing up was one of his favorite activities. He enjoys smacking and grabbing her bum especially since there was nothing she could do about it while up to her elbows in soapy water.

Harry comes up behind her and nuzzles his face into her neck, “Mrs. Potter. Are you done yet?”

She turns off the water and wips her hands on a towel. “I am now.” She turns around and put her arms around his neck. He hoists her up onto the counter and leans in to kiss her.

From off in the distance, they hear a roar of fire and a voice call, “Harry? Ginny?”

“In the kitchen, Hermione,” Harry yells towards his best friend. “I'm marching down to the Department of Magical Transportation tomorrow and revoking her floo privileges.”

“I wonder what's wrong this time,” Ginny says hopping down from the counter.

Interruptions from Hermione are getting more and more frequent. It started out as Hermione asking marriage advice, then for their opinions on the therapist’s suggestions, then Hermione complaining about Ron’s complaining, now it seems like she’ll find any excuse not to be home. Harry and Ginny have been at the epicenter of the deterioration of Ron and Hermione’s marriage. For the past ten years, they have witnessed Ron and Hermione grow further and further apart. It was painful to watch without any control over what was happening.

Hermione comes into the kitchen her eyes swollen once again. Once upon a time, Hermione knew how to control and compartmentalize her emotions — she would never let anyone see her cry. Her marriage had been unraveling faster, and faster and she just couldn’t keep it in anymore.  

“Scotch or Tea?” Harry asks her.

She takes a deep breath and says, “Both please.”

They walk over to the stools at the island. Ginny thinks to herself, _we have done this too many times. We have seen her like this more times than we can count._ She could kill her brother. Ginny just doesn’t understand why they are still together.

Harry doesn’t even bother asking her what happened because he knows Hermione will tell them. She drinks the whisky that was set out for her and sighs heavily, “Gin, Harry, what am I doing? I’m always here. I’m always talking about how miserable my marriage is. Both Hugo and Rose have pleaded with me to leave Ron. Well, more like they lectured, threatened, and yelled at me. But, I think I’m ready. Damn, do you know how heartbreaking it is to know your children don't trust your judgment? I miss the days they would idolize us. Now that they are adults, they realize we are painfully flawed humans.”

Harry and Ginny have had their fair share of volatile conversations with their children; it’s one of the most excruciating parts of parenthood. It’s never easy to hear your children speak with more honesty and maturity than you are exhibiting at the moment. Ginny says, “The truth, especially when it comes from your kids, is sobering.”

Hermione says as her voice starts to crack and her tears start to fall again. “For fuck’s sake. Tonight we were fighting about me wanting to go on a cruise for my birthday, but he thinks it’s too posh, expensive, and slow and he thinks we should just throw a party and buy me a new sex toy.”

Harry and Ginny roll their eyes at the mention of “sex toy.” Ginny sighs and says, “I love my brother, I do. But he’s a fucking idiot. Ron is a cheap, lazy bastard, who is incredibly set in his ways.”

Harry says, “Ron is like an older version of his teenage self. What’s the term? Arrested Development? He dislikes money and all that is associated with it, despite his own wealth growing daily. His jealousy is out of control and has trouble with his confidence. We all grew up, changed, and adapted. We had to, especially considering the career paths we chose. Ron still doesn't like the fact you and I have so many friends and allies in the Ministry. You’re not the only one he targets, Hermione.”

“He's never going to change is he?” Hermione asks sadly.

“Hermione. I have said all this before. We have had so many conversations just like this. So, I’m just going to say it. I give you my blessing to divorce my brother. We used to have fun. We used to talk. You’re not happy with Ron. He’s not happy with you. You are not the people you fell in love with, and I honestly don’t know if either of you still loves each other.”

Hermione takes in Ginny’s words, and they have the same truthful sting as Hugo’s words did. It’s apparent that there is only one decision to make. Why was finding the courage to do this harder than everything she’s ever done. Is it because ending things with Ron would mean failure? That word — failure — has always been her greatest fear.

“Hermione, you know Ginny and I will love you and Ron no matter what.” Harry reaches out and held both women's hands, and Ginny takes Hermione’s hand. “What is important is that you are happy. We can't continue to point out what is wrong in your relationship and how to fix it. Some things can't be fixed.”

“What will Molly and Arthur say?” Hermione desperately looks at Ginny.

“I'll be there when you need to talk to Mum and Dad. They just need to know that no one will have their marriage, not even Harry and me.” She squeezes his hand, “you know I married for your money, right? I never want to tend to pigs ever again.”

“The secret is out. Ginny Weasley is a gold digging, red-haired enchantress! Oh, wasn't that our wedding announcement in the Prophet?” Harry can't help but look at his wife, the woman he adores.

With shared admiration, Ginny tells Harry, “That was the front page, the sports pages read, ‘Holyhead Harpies Hottie to Wed Specky Git.’”

Hermione’s smile and laughter mask her jealousy. How did these school sweethearts manage to make it work and she and Ron not? Her thoughts are interrupted by a ring at the door.

“Hear that, Hermione? It's a doorbell. It's how you alert homeowners that you, as a guest, have arrived.” Harry says as he gets up to see who it is.

Hermione yells back, “but I'm not a guest. I'm family.” She laughs and looks back at Ginny. It feels good to laugh. “Ginny. I don’t know if I can do this on my own, but I don’t want to bring the kids. I'm going to call Justin in the morning to start the preparations. Do you think you could come with me to pick up the papers?”

“So you're ready to do this? You're ready to be a divorcee?”

“I think I am. But I’m scared, for Ron. I’ve always been independent. But him? He’s never been alone a day in his life.” Though all the fights, disagreements, and ice-outs can push her to the point of apathy at times, Hermione will always worry about Ron.

“Good evening, ladies,” a familiar drawl pulls Hermione and Ginny out of their serious conversation. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Draco! To what do we owe the pleasure?” Ginny says to her unexpected house guest. “Would you like a drink? We have tea and Scotch.”

“How stereotypically British of you. Scotch. Neat please.” Draco reaches into a black leather messenger bag and pulls out a few very ancient looking books. “Harry needed these for research. Apparently, they are very rare and existed in Malfoy collection.”

Draco takes a seat next to Hermione and notices the redness of her eyes but holds his tongue. He knows why she has been crying. When Rose comes over to the Manor, she tells Scorpius about her parents in private but the house echoes. Draco has heard more than his fair share of details concerning Hermione and Ron’s constant fighting and it has taken every ounce of him not to hex Weasley into next Tuesday. Draco takes the drink in his hand and bumps his arm into Hermione’s side to get her attention, “Cheers.”

They clink their glasses, and it brings a smile to Hermione’s face. During the past ten years, their friendship had grown and are comfortable with this type of play fighting. “Draco can I see these books?”

“Of course. They are in Latin. Do you read or speak it?” He asks as he pushes the books in front of her.

“A bit. I was studying it when I was younger before I got my letter, but never pursued it any further.” She answers him. When she opens the ancient tomes, they are all hand lettered, and the illustrations have gold foil and rich colors. “These books are beautiful. Should I be wearing archival gloves?”

“Probably. But then again, they might be charmed. Magic library and all.” He gives her a wink, and she shoves him back.

“Prat. What do they say and why do you need them, Harry?” Hermione is quite intrigued; books are a wonderful way to distract her from complex emotional situations.

“They are the origins of spell creation and wandless magic,” Harry replies to his friend. “I’ve read all the contemporary books on the subjects and hoped there were answers for the questions I still had.”

“And those questions would be?” Hermione asks Harry.

“Why do I still need a wand?” They all laugh and finish up their drinks.

“Thank you for the drink. Good luck with the books.” Draco says as he gets up from his seat.

“Actually. I’m going to go, too.” Hermione says to the group. Draco puts his hand out to help her down from the stool and softly brushes the tops of her fingers with his thumb.

“I’ll see you out,” Harry says while he escorts them out of the kitchen. Once he thinks Hermione and Draco are out of earshot, he peeks back into the kitchen and says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “We’ll be picking up where we left off, Mrs. Potter.”

—xoxox—

They all say their goodbyes and Hermione exits through the front door with Draco instead of taking the floo.

Draco looks like he is about to say goodbye to Hermione but she cuts him off and puts her hand on his arm, “Draco, would you like to go for a walk? I’m not quite ready to go home yet.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful night, and the cold autumn air hasn’t hit London yet. So, yes, I would love to go for a walk.” His heart pounds a bit harder. He’s been trying to suppress his feelings for her, but they have been growing stronger with every new bit of information he receives about her marriage crumbling. Draco has been very careful not to interfere, make any moves, or even let his feelings be known to Hermione. She looks beautiful in the moonlight, and he knows his eyes have lingered a bit too long, so he extends his arm for her to take, “Shall we?”

“We shall. Sometimes I miss walking — magical transport can make you so lazy.” Hermione crosses her free hand over to rub his arm and feel the soft fabric of his jacket. She absent-mindedly leans her head on his arm, and he rests his head on hers. “Do you ever miss running around Hogwarts?”

“Not really, but I’m also not a fan of being so sedentary. But I will tell you one thing; I bet the girls at our school had the best legs in all of Britain with all those stairs.”

“Oh, our boys also had nice firm bums, too.” They turn to look at each other with a smirk.

“So I told you why I went to the Potters’, why were you there?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about it. Just me and Ron fighting about what I want to do for my birthday.” Hermione is no longer in the mood to talk about things that cause her anxiety.

“Speaking of which,” he starts going through his bag and retrieves another book and hands it to her. “While I was looking for those books for Harry, I found this.”    

“‘The Winter's Tale’ by William Shakespeare. Draco Malfoy, you sentimental softie. Giving me a copy of the book with my namesake.”

“Not just a copy. It’s an original printing. That book is almost 400 years old.”

“Oh, I can’t take this. It’s much too valuable.”

“It’s a gift, and it would be considered rude not to accept it. Besides, it’s not my favorite Shakespearean work.”

“And that would be?”

“Don’t laugh. ‘Romeo and Juliet.’”

“You and every other person who was a teenager in the late nineties. _Gasp!_ Did you see the Baz Luhrmann film?”

“I admit it. I did. It was a seminal film for our generation.”

“Never in a million years could I picture teenage Draco Malfoy, the purest of purebloods, going to a muggle cinema to watch ‘Romeo and Juliet!’”

“Shut it. It is Shakespeare. But I loved the adaptation with the guns. It got me wondering what the adaptation would have been like with wands.”

“So many surprises with you.”

“Open the book. There is another gift.”

Hermione opens the book and finds an itinerary for The Cunard Queen Victoria, dated Sunday, 10–16 February 2030. “Draco? What is this?”

“Well, Rose had mentioned how the Cunard cruise lines had very sentimental value to your family. Scorpius is planning on proposing. God, we’re getting old. How can our kids already want to get married?” Draco scratches his head at the thought.

“What? Scorpius is going to propose!?!” She exclaims.

“Yes, but he wants it to be special and represent both families. Since his family will be represented by his mother’s ring, where he proposes will be tied to you and Rose. He wants us all to be there but wants to wait until February. So I booked the Queen’s suite for you and Weasley is in steerage.”

They share a laugh, “You joke, but I think he would be more comfortable in steerage than in first class. Oh, Scorpius. That boy. How did you raise a kid that romantic and thoughtful?”

“Astoria and I did the opposite of what my parents did to me. Scorpius is the version of me I wanted to be.” _Including being with a Granger_ , he thinks to himself.

She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him. Her face rests on his chest inhaling his scent while he nuzzles his face into her neck. His fingers can help but run through her curls. They hold their embrace a bit longer than a thank you would take. There is only one other time they have been this close to each other, and she will never remember it.

“Thank you, Draco,” she says still locked in his embrace while he comforts her by running his fingers down her back. “This is the best birthday present I’ve ever received. I guess I owe you big when your fiftieth comes around. Hopefully, you’ll have someone special by then.”

“Maybe. If I’m lucky.” The only person he could imagine being with is in his arms right now. “Let me carry the book until we get to your house. How far is it from here? I can't tell where we are.”

“We must have walked about half a mile now, so about another two and a half? We can always apparate if it gets cold or we get tired.” Her teeth are starting to chatter. The temperature is dropping, and she is only wearing a thin jacket and jumper. Draco takes off his scarf, wraps it around Hermione, and lengthens it to become a shawl. She pulls the fabric up to her nose and takes in Draco’s scent again without thinking. “Thank you.”

For the rest of the walk, Draco keeps his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm, and they just talk about everything. She learns more about Draco’s favorite muggle secrets: music, films, distilleries, literature, and art. They speak of the finer points of their different worlds and how freeing it is that they can pick and choose the best from both. Conversation is so easy and just flows. Before they knew it, they were walking up to the Minister’s Mansion, the residence of the standing Minister for Magic. Draco hands Hermione her book back. He brushes the hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear and gives her a kiss on her forehead. She closes her eyes and feels shivers spread from her face to her chest.

“I should go now.” He says to her, and she throws her arms around his waist once more he returns the embrace. This night has felt like food for the soul. She's not sure if it is the friendship, the conversation, or just being held by a man.

He then whispers in her ear,  
_“Good night, good night!_  
_Parting is such sweet sorrow,_  
_That I shall say good night_  
_till it be morrow_.”

He lets her go and walks backward as not to take his eyes off her, then disapparates.

Tears form in her eyes, but not the ones of sadness and pain she shed earlier. These were tears of happiness. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her fingers go to scratch her neck when she realizes she’s still wearing his scarf. She takes another whiff then walks through the door of her broken home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of me in this story, so please be delicate. My parents still to this day have a toxic, volatile marriage. When I was a child, I would pray for them to divorce. I hate seeing my mother cry and I hate seeing my father unhappy. Their codependency is unhealthy and the way they yell at each other puts off anyone wanting to spend time with them.
> 
> Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	5. Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a flashback to an important turning point and then we return to present day. 
> 
> Warnings: Sexual situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters and entities from the Wizarding World trademarked by J. K. Rowling. Original plots, dialogue, and characters are mine.

June 2025

A graduation party and one at the Minister’s Mansion at that. Draco scratches his head at how strange this feels compared to when he finished up school. “Graduation” was rebuilding the school and clearing the dead from the rubble. There was no celebration. It was somber and the end of innocence. But this? Seeing teenagers laughing, planning their futures and travels, comparing test scores, and sharing what internships and apprenticeships they had lined up, it was all a bit too much. It was a harsh reminder of what was stolen from his generation. He nervously tugs on his left sleeve; a habit he picked up every time the regrets of his past came over him.

Draco looks for a room without guests for a little bit of quiet. He has engaged in enough conversation for the time being. He finds himself in a comfortable looking music room and is surprised no one is in here. Next to the piano, he sees an acoustic guitar. He picks it up and sits on the sofa. His fingers pluck the strings, and it is terribly out of tune. “How long has it been since someone has played you?” he whispers to the inanimate object. He looks up because he hears laughing coming from another room. Draco recognizes it as Granger and Weasley and overhears their conversation.

“Ron, lock up the good stuff. Give the kids the shitty firewhisky and butterbeer,” Hermione tells her husband.

“But Hermione, this is a celebration. Let them enjoy it.” Ron pleads with his wife.

“They don’t have sophisticated enough palates. They’ll just do shots with my 50-year-old scotch as if it were in shooters handed around by bar girls in Ibiza. No.” Hermione is acting mock-annoyed.

“Okay fair. I’ll go on a run and get more cheap stuff,” Ron gives his wife a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door.

“Thank you, husband.”

Draco has never liked Weasley, and any attempts at friendship were futile, but they learned how to be civil. Ginny and Harry get along with him rather well with as their sons are best friends and they have their unofficial ‘I was Voldemort’s puppet’ support group. Though, when it came to Hermione, he smiles at the thought of her. Their friendship has been growing into something rather unexpected. He loves their playful banter — it is smart and witty, and they enjoy a dry sense of humor. They challenge each other without it ever getting out of hand. He much prefers a war of words and cleverness than wands and prejudiced rhetoric. Draco always knew she was a gifted student, but he realized she was much more well-rounded than school allowed, then again, she would probably say the same about him.

When he feels that the guitar is finally in tune, he starts strumming it and softly sings, _Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want_ by The Smiths.

 _Good times for a change_  
_See, the luck I've had  
_ _Can make a good man turn bad_

Hermione smiles as she walks into the room. Surprise washes over her as she hears Draco singing one of her favorite songs by one of her favorite bands. He hasn’t even noticed her walk in and continues singing.

 _So please, please, please_  
_Let me, let me, let me_  
_Let me get what I want this time_

Hermione joins in on the piano playing what would be the rhythm guitar part in the musical interlude. Draco looks up with a smile and continues singing and raises his voice a bit.

 _Haven't had a dream in a long time_  
_See, the life I've had_  
_Can make a good man bad_

 _So for once in my life_  
_Let me get what I want_  
_Lord knows, it would be the first time_  
_Lord knows, it would be the first time_

Draco finishes singing and strums the last chord; bit embarrassed.

Hermione, thoroughly intrigued, raises an eyebrow and asks, “So, you’re a fan of The Smiths. How did that happen?” 

He laughs feeling he has been caught revealing a secret. “Well, you know that I moved to London after school, before getting married, right?”

“Yes. That gorgeous home in Hyde Park that my daughter is dead-set on moving into with your son. Please go on.” She rolls her eyes thinking about her daughter already planning on having a committed adult relationship.

“Wait. What did you just say? Scorpius and Rose want to move in with each other? What happened to a gap year?” There is a panic in his voice and flusters thinking how he is going to handle this situation.

“We’ll talk to them together and try to tell them to slow down.” She squeezes his knee in reassurance. It is hard enough parenting when you have a partner; she can’t even imagine how difficult this is for Draco. “Okay. The Smiths. Go on.”

Draco smirks and is comforted by her touch. He continues, “Well, living in muggle London, I kept hearing music around and loved it. When it comes down to it, music is like food. It’s universal. Songs are stories about love, lust, loss, experiences, all the things that make us human. Separating wizard music and muggle music is an idiotic idea. So I went to a record shop, remember those?” He says sarcastically, causing her to laugh, “It was before the boom of digital music. I told the shop attendant I grew up in a religious home and went to a very strict religious school and I was new to pop music. He loaded me up with over 40 years of essentials to get my musical education — The Beatles and their solo careers, Zepplin, The Smiths, The Pixies, The Cure, The Police and Sting, Radiohead, Blur, Oasis, pretty much the most influential British bands up to that point. He first thought I was a huge Eminem fan because of the hair.” He ruffles his light blonde locks and starts laughing, “Once I explained it was natural, and he looked me up and down and noticed my clothes, he figured I would enjoy music with a bit more depth, and gave me the good stuff.”

“I was finally able to get Ron into muggle music after the war also, and we used to go to festivals every summer. See, if you weren’t such an arsehole in school, I would have shared my CD collection with you or brought you with me to Glasto.”

“If I weren't such an arsehole in school, my whole life would have been different, or I would have ended up dead. Either way,” he says nonchalantly.

She shakes her head, unable to believe how flippant his comment was, “You have a dark, twisted sense of humor, Draco.”

“With the shit we lived through, how do you not?”

“I drink.”

“As do I. So what do you want to sing next?”

“Oh, so we are having a sing-along, are we?”

“Come on Granger,” he pleaded, so slyly, so convincingly, that his words had the effect of teenage peer pressure. 

She thinks carefully about different song arrangements that would work well with just a piano and a guitar, “Okay, _Just Like Heaven_ by The Cure, but at half tempo.” She hums the slowed down version and plays the first couple of bars until he gets it. They play the introduction, and she starts singing.

 _"Show me how you do that trick”_  
_"The one that makes me scream," she said_  
_"The one that makes me laugh," she said_  
_And threw her arms around my neck_  
_"Show me how you do it_  
_And I promise you I promise that_  
_I'll run away with you_  
_I'll run away with you"_

She looks up from the piano keys, and he, from the guitar. Their eyes find each other and lock. Hermione doesn't realize it, but she's no longer singing with him, but to him.

 _Spinning on that dizzy edge_  
_I kissed her face and kissed her head_  
_And dreamed of all the different ways I had_  
_To make her glow_  
_"Why are you so far away?" she said_  
_"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you_  
_That I'm in love with you"_

Draco swallows hard watching her lips say ‘I’m in love with you.’ He knows she’s just singing the lyrics written by Robert Smith, but it felt like a switch went off in his head. Draco joins in and sings with her.

 _You_  
_Soft and only_  
_You_  
_Lost and lonely_  
_You_  
_Strange as angels_  
_Dancing in the deepest oceans_  
_Twisting in the water_  
_You're just like a dream_

 _Daylight licked me into shape_  
_I must have been asleep for days_  
_And moving lips to breathe her name_  
_I opened up my eyes_  
_And found_ myself _alone alone_  
_Alone above a raging sea_  
_That stole the only girl I loved_  
_And drowned her deep inside of me_  
_You_  
_Soft and only_  
_You_  
_Lost and lonely_  
_You_  
_Just like heaven_

Their gaze never breaks. Hermione wants to say something but is interrupted by clapping and hollering. They shake out of their trance and look to see about twenty people have crammed themselves into the parlor, unbeknownst to the duet.

Ron comes over and kisses her on the head before sitting next to Draco, though it may have been a bit of posturing on his part.

“How did you get back so quickly?” Hermione asks Ron.

“Oh I just popped over gave the clerk money and a list, and they’ll be coming by with the delivery,” he explains, then directs his attention toward Draco. “Nice of you to tune my guitar for me. I never got that great at playing it. So, The Cure, huh? Well, that was a pretty romantic rendition.”

“Hermione’s arrangement. I just played guitar,” Draco panics and blurts. He’s not quite sure what Ron is insinuating, but regains his composure and smiles, “she has a beautiful voice.”

Hermione blushes a little and says, “That was fun, but who’s ready for cake?”

“Mum, one more song,” Rose says, “but I’m jumping in.” She whispers something into Draco’s ear, and it puts a smile on his face. Rose slides next to mother on the piano bench and tells her the song.

“Scorpius, this one is for you. Your lovely girlfriend wanted your mother to be part of today,” Draco says before nodding to Rose and Hermione. They begin playing _Fix You_ by Coldplay. Astoria had also fallen in love with muggle music, and this song was her choice lullaby for her little boy. She knew life was going to be very hard for him — his family’s past, her imminent death, and one day Scorpius would have to be strong enough to pull himself and his father out of despair. This song eventually became an anthem for father and son to lean on each other.

 _When you try your best, but you don't succeed_  
_When you get what you want, but not what you need_  
_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
_ _Stuck in reverse_

 _And the tears come streaming down your face_  
_When you lose something you can't replace_  
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
_ _Could it be worse?_

 _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones  
_ _And I will try to fix you_

 _And high up above or down below_  
_When you're too in love to let it go_  
_But if you never try you'll never know  
_ _Just what you're worth_

 _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones  
_ _And I will try to fix you_

 _Tears stream down your face_  
_When you lose something you cannot replace_  
_Tears stream down your face and I_  
_Tears stream down your face_  
_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_  
_Tears stream down your face and I_  
_Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones  
_ _And I will try to fix you_

Scorpius is overcome with emotion while Albus has his arm around his shoulders, but refuses shed any tears, especially in front of his classmates. His girlfriend leaves her mother on the bench comes over and gives him a hug and kiss. Draco puts down the guitar and gives Hermione a squeeze on the shoulder and says, “Thank you.” Draco puts his hand on his son’s back, and Scorpius lets go of Rose and flings his arms around his father. Draco thinks back to a time when he was a little boy and would always hug him in that fashion—use his entire body and squeeze with all his might. They both let the tears flow. Today, they can feel Astoria’s absence. Draco and Scorpius blush, realizing how ridiculous they must look.

Hermione reaches for Ron’s hand, and he takes it, but something is off. His face looks a bit saddened but hides behind a smile. She wonders if he is picturing himself in Malfoy's shoes, wondering what life would be like without her. She squeezes Ron's hand and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay. Now time for cake.” Hermione says as she shoos everyone out of the room. She lets Draco and Scorpius have a little bit longer, but can’t help but feel like so many opinions she had about Draco changed today.

___________

## MARCH 2030

Never in a million years would Hermione imagine that the horrible events at Malfoy Manor could be replaced with new, exciting, although, complicated ones. Draco is there, thinking about her and here she is thinking about him. As she passes through the doors to her lavish home, she reminds herself that this home won’t be hers for much longer.

She tells Ron, “I'm heading up to take a shower.”

“Alright. I'm going to make a snack. Do you want one?”

“No, I'm fine. Maybe a glass of water, please?”

“You got it.”

As she takes off her coat and gown, she admires her figure in the full-length mirror. This body of hers has been through war, love, loss, and created life. It is battle-scarred, and though aged, she has treated it with care. This mortal vessel she is resilient and attended to. Her arms, legs, back, and bottom are toned, but the stretch marks from her pregnancies never faded, and of course, her breasts have dropped a bit. She moves her hands up and down her sides to feel her curves and turns to see her body at different angles. No one has admired or touched this body of hers with desire and appreciation for such a long time, and she can’t help but fantasize about the possibilities.

Hermione puts her hand under the shower, to test its readiness. Its warmth is inviting, and she carefully steps inside. The cascading water is soothing and gives her a moment of clarity, before the events of the evening run cloud her mind once gain. _Draco Malfoy. That beautiful idiot. Why had he waited so long to tell me?_ He had so many opportunities. Ten years they had been friends. Ten years he could have taken her aside and confessed his feelings. Hell, they had so many nights alone on that weeklong cruise a few weeks ago. While Ron experienced what seemed like never ending seasickness, she and Draco spent hours up every night in the lounge drinking and talking. Why tonight? Why now?

Her mind starts racing as random memories pop into her head. She sighs at the thought of his embrace and scent. Even before tonight, it would bring her calm and lightness to her heart. She can always imagine that earthy, wooden, crisp scent.

Then there is his voice. It has gotten a bit raspier over the years and carries a particular timbre, and he always spoke openly with sophisticated elocution. Her mind flashes back to Rose’s graduation party in which she and Draco found themselves serenading each other with her behind the piano and him on Ron’s acoustic guitar.

She can't forget how just days before her birthday, he quoted Romeo and Juliet. Was there another reason that was his favorite Shakespearean work other than the fact of its popularity with teenagers from the nineties? Did he, a younger version of himself, find a connection to the star-crossed lovers? Was she, his only love sprung from his only hate?

Tonight had been everything her soul needed. She felt desired and loved. She felt carefree and reckless but had a man to prevent her from acting rashly. Merlin, she wanted him so badly. She hadn’t even realized it, but all this ruminating about Draco’s finer attributes led her to caress her breasts and massage her aching folds. She let her fingers graze over her nub, gently rubbing it, deepening her want. Two fingers slipped into her slit while continuing to rub her bundle of nerves with the heel of her hand. _Does he expect to wait until they go to Europe in over a month from now? He has to be kidding;_ she thinks to herself. She rubs and fingers herself a little harder and a little faster, inching closer and closer to climax. She begins to fantasize about what it will be like the first time they're together. Will he tease and toy with her or will he be a generous lover? What will his mouth feel like against her skin, better yet, between her legs? Her fantasies are enough to push her over the edge. She reaches for the towel rack for support as she falls against the tile wall, accepting the shockwaves of her orgasm.

Hermione turns and bangs her head against the wall and says to herself, “No. No. No. What are you thinking? You have a plan. Postpone the divorce until after the wedding, and finish of your term as Minister—not sooner. You have too much riding on this. You're still married, and Ron had been trying harder since the blow up over your birthday. Draco has to wait. Going on the diplomacy tour? What were you thinking agreeing to that? There is just too much temptation. Pull it together and block it out for now.”

Hermione gets out of the shower and dries herself off. She sprays some perfume, brushes her hair, and applies some lip balm. In her walk-in closet, she picks out a negligee with a balconette cut bodice, of black, unlined lace. The body of the gown is thin, white silk that touches the floor, and the back is very low cut and is held together by an X of very delicate straps. While the lingerie is flattering and makes her feel sexy, her favorite part is the slits on the side. She's always loved her legs though, she didn't get many opportunities to show them off in her youth with the uniform leggings, but will at any opportunity it is appropriate.

When she walks into the bedroom, Ron has already put on his pajamas and is finishing his sandwich.

She crawls onto the bed and lays down next to him on her side with her body partially propped up. “Hey,” she says to him with a smile. She’s trying to forget today’s events and be in the moment with her husband.

“Oh, you look nice. Is that new?”

“I bought it awhile back. Do you like it?”

“It's very, very nice.” It sounds like he's trying to make an effort.

“So what did you do all night? I was so busy entertaining guests; I barely saw you.” She says the half-truth.  

“Let’s see. I drank a lot. I ate a lot. I spoke to a lot of my relatives and pulled my groin playing Quidditch.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound pleasant. Would you like me to massage it for you?” She asks is a half innocent, half seductive way.

“No, it’s way too tender. I actually had Hugo look at it. He said ice, compression, and rest would be the best treatment.”

“Oh,” sounding disappointed once again.

“So what did you and Malfoy talk about when you drank his expensive booze?” There is a tinge of annoyance in his voice when he brings up Draco’s name.

“Come on, Ron. Scorpius is going to be our son-in-law, and our grandchildren will be Malfoys. You can’t keep calling Draco ‘Malfoy.’”

“No. He’ll always be Malfoy. Scorpius will be Scorpius and our grandchildren will be Granger-Weasley-Malfoy.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. I’ve seen Rose practicing signing ‘Rose Amelia Malfoy’ since she was sixteen.”

“We’ll see. So what did you talk about? You were in that library for a while and then on the dance floor.” Ron’s voice seems to have taken a more serious tone.

“He was worried about me. He saw that I was rattled and having flashbacks. We had a few drinks to calm me down, and he apologized for the past and how much he resented everything.”

Ron clenches his fists, “Oh he did, did he? Did he apologize for the nightmares his aunt caused you and the mutilation of your arm.”

“Yes and he also has nightmares. You think it was easy for him too?" She takes a moment to try to calm herself. She couldn't believe Ron was bringing this up. " _We_ were able to escape that house. _He_ has to live in it. Can you imagine how it was for him being used by his family and Voldemort? That day. Don't you remember? He refused to identify us. It was his parents who realized who we were.  He tried to save us the only way he knew how—”

“He attacked us.”

“And missed every single shot.”

“I can’t believe you are defending him.”

“I can’t believe you are holding a grudge against a man who made terrible decisions when he was a teenager and has spent over thirty years using his regret and remorse to make himself a better person and change the perceptions of his family legacy.”

“You, Harry, and I were sixteen and seventeen when we decided to do the right thing. Harry even died.”

“We had an incredible amount of support—between your parents and the Order. It’s not fair to compare Harry and Draco. They both had roles in the war thrust upon them without even knowing what it truly meant.” Hermione raises her voice and sits upright, “If you want to drudge up the past about a war and stupid decisions we made when we were teenagers, we can do that. You left me. You left Harry. We needed you, and you ran away. We were too young to be dragged into a war. If I can forgive you of your cowardice, I can forgive Draco of his. We were all fucking scared, and we all handled it differently.”

Ron goes quiet for a moment and then says, “I don’t want you to be friends with him anymore.”

“Excuse me? You do know that we will be family in about six months time, right?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust him, or you don’t trust _me?_ ”

Ron goes silent and cannot find the words. “Why do all your friends have to be men?”

She scoffs furious with what he's suggesting. “When have I ever had close female friends other than Ginny and Luna? I have more now, but I have always had guy friends. You, Harry, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Fred, George, Justin, Ernie, do I need to go on?” Ron grumbles something incomprehensible; exhaustedly Hermione says, “I thought we were past all this unfounded jealousy. We started making progress since my birthday. The weekend trips have been nice, and so was that cruise, when you weren’t sick. Ron, what is going on here?”

He turns his back to her and through gritted teeth says, “I’m not over it. I hate the fact I have to share you with so many men. I hate Malfoy. I hate that you forgive everyone. I hate that you are _so noble_ that it makes you seem like you are so much better than all of us. I hate that you have done so much that people worship you. I hate the fact you didn’t wait for me. I hate not being enough for you. I hate what our marriage is. I wish it were like when we were younger.”

“Ron,” she says with a whisper though tears in her eyes, “That’s a lot of hate in those hurtful words.”

“Well, I mean them.”

“You can’t expect us to be like when we were younger. We aren’t the same people. We all grew up and changed.”

“I haven’t changed.”

“No. You haven’t, but I have.” There is so much heaviness in her voice, and she knows that this is the end. She doesn’t need to carry out her plan. Ron has decided for her. “I’m going to sleep in the study.”

“Probably a good idea,” he growls and turns his back to her. 

Hermione gets out of bed and wraps her black silk dressing gown around her, grabs her wand and mobile and exits the bedroom. 

Sleeping in her study is such a normal occurrence, Ron stopped chasing after her. The study has almost everything one could need: a half-bath, some of her clothes, a mini refrigerator, and a stocked bar. Upon arriving at her study, she locks the door and casts a charm so no one can get in or hear. With a sigh, she plops into her office chair and can't help but feel broken. The end of their marriage hurts so much more than she imagined.

With a sigh, she says, “it’s time.” In an office drawer, she pulls out a folder. Ginny had gone with her to file all the paperwork needed to start the divorce process. In this folder, she has her marriage certificate, prenuptial agreement, bank and investment records, and most importantly, a divorce petition form. Her hand shakes as she scrawls her signature on the document. When she finishes, a slight weight comes off her chest, but at the same time, it feels like a punch to the gut. She takes a photo of it and sends it to her lawyer. The text message reads, “Justin. I apologize for texting so late. I'm finally moving forward. I'll call you in the morning to set up an appointment to get this finalized. Good night.”

A flash of light catches her eye, and it is the small diamond on her engagement ring. She pulls off her wedding band and engagement ring and slams them on top of the folder.

Hermione’s breathing becomes labored, and she’s afraid she’ll slip into a panic attack. Not thinking, she walks over to her bar and pours herself a dram of whisky. Its aroma is strangely calming. The liquid goes down her throat and warms her body. While laying on her bed, her hand slips under the pillow and pulls Draco’s scarf. The smell is faint, but the memories help intensify the sensation. Her eyes open and lock onto the fireplace. Being the minister has its perks. This fireplace is one of the few fireplaces that can get to anywhere in the Floo Network.

Talking to someone could help her from spiraling into a full-blown panic attack. Hermione looks down at her feet and realizes she didn’t even put on bedroom slippers. She looks around the room and finds a pair of black stilettos under the desk. All she needs now are her wand and mobile, walks into the fireplace, takes the powder and says very clearly, “Draco Malfoy’s bedroom.” In a blaze of fire, she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Use of Technology in this fic: Much like Ottaline Gambol (Minister 1827–1835, See Short Stories from Hogwarts—Of Power, Politics, and Pesky Poltergeists), Hermione Granger, had a fondness for Muggle technology and missed the convenience when away at school. During her early days at the ministry, she had pushed for legislation to streamline communication, especially with how quickly the magical communication was falling behind. For the many wizards and witches who live in the major cities, such as London or Birmingham, owning a mobile phone would be commonplace. The story's setting is 2030 after all. Those who live in remote or densely magical areas such as The Burrow or Hogsmeade didn't see the point of embracing technology.
> 
> Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com)  
> or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](https://www.facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter/)


	6. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events after traveling through the floo
> 
> Warnings: Sexual situations. Themes of divorce and anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Love: Mama2HPBabies

 

## March 2030

Draco's room is currently lit by a single bedside lamp as he is still up reading. Another reminder age is creeping up on them; he now has to wear reading glasses. A roar comes from his fireplace, and she appears. Without looking up, he already knows who it is. Draco is what many would call a ministry brat; they grow up around the Ministry, know many of the officials, and have an in-depth knowledge of rules, regulations, and politics—including what the minister can and can’t do. From behind the book, he drawls, “Minister, this is a gross misuse of power.”

“Draco?” Her voice and body are shaking, and she looks so lost—as though she might fall over.

Without hesitation, he jumps out of bed and takes her in his arms. Her soft sobs trigger erratic breathing which turns into hyperventilation. Draco can recognize a panic attack anywhere as he had so many himself while under the Dark Lord’s control, and after for that matter. His voice drops and slowly says, “Hermione. I need you to slow down your breathing. Breathe with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.” He rubs her back until the attack passes. When her body is no longer tense in his arms,  he kisses her on the head thankful that she is okay.

“Jollie!” Draco calls for his house elf.

His elf is wearing her nightgown and cap. Her tennis ball eyes double in size as she realizes there is a woman in her master’s bedroom, “Master, is the Minister alright?”

“She will be, but I need your help. Can you please fetch us some chamomile tea and some roast beef sandwiches?” He asks calmly

“Of course, sir,” the elf replies and leaves immediately to start preparing the midnight snack.

Draco hasn’t let Hermione out of his embrace. She looks up at him with kind eyes and appreciation. Her lips touch his, and the kiss is warm and comforting. He smiles down at her and asks, “Do you want to sit down?”

“I think I need to lie down if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He helps her walk to the bed. Hermione slips off her heels and the dressing gown and crawls under the covers. The slit of her negligee opens and reveals everything including the fact she isn’t wearing undergarments. Draco scratches his head and tries to contain his excitement, well, for the time being. He moves his body next to her and holds her protectively with her head on his chest.

“It’s over. It’s actually over—” she's about to tell Draco everything, but he cuts her off.

“Shh. Don’t wind yourself up yet. You’re still so tense, and I can feel your heart racing.”

“I'll be alright. Promise. I have to tell you this,” she gains her composure, “Ron and I had a fight. He said horrible things. He said he hated so many things about me, my friends, and you.”

“He said ‘hate’? About you?” Draco spat with his signature sneer.

“Please, don’t get worked up and angry. It’s not worth it.” She looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Ron made it very clear that he was never going to change.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I already did it. I had the divorce papers. They’re signed and sent to the lawyer.”

“What does that mean?”  

“I’m now legally separated and will have to meet Justin tomorrow to find out what the next steps are.”

He holds her tighter knowing how much this hurts her but feels hope growing. “But this is what you wanted, right?”

“It is. I thought I was prepared for what it would feel like when it was done, but it's much more emotional than I imagined. I know it's the right decision, but it's still painful and heartbreaking. We’ve been together for most of my life.” Hermione’s eyes are locked with Draco’s as she speaks. He gently runs his fingers down her bare back. The sensation is soothing and sensual at the same time. “He kept bringing up the war as if the past thirty years didn’t mean anything. He commanded me to stop being friends with you. I snapped back and became so upset,” she pauses and places her hand on his face, “ —because I can't imagine my life without you in it.”

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes, really,” she gives him another kiss and looks at him imploringly, “why did it take you so long to tell me?”

“Why did you say we were never meant to be?” he asks with a cock of his eyebrow.

“You said it first, remember?” she says playfully, “But I said that before you kissed me, you really kissed me. I’m an idiot, and apparently, from that memory, you shared with me from our past, I’ve been an idiot since I was seventeen. So, Draco Malfoy, tell me, why did you wait so long to tell me how you feel?”

He sighs realizing what an idiot he is in an goes on to explain. “Well one, I didn’t want to say anything until you were divorced. We all knew it was coming so I’ve been patiently waiting for you to do so. Secondly, I needed to be sure you would be happier with me. When your husband was so serendipitously affected by terrible seasickness, I had you all to myself. For even a few days, we were together, and I finally knew that I could make you happy.”

She recalls many of the passengers and staff mistaking them for a married couple or asking if they were on a second honeymoon. It pained her to tell them they were just friends and that her husband was feeling poorly and resting in the stateroom. “Now you wouldn't have anything to do with Ron being ill, would you?”

He gives her a mischievous look. For obvious reasons, Draco and Ron never became friends. “I think you already know the answer. But tonight, when you looked so distressed, I didn’t want any of your sadness to associated with me, my past, or my house. I had to tell you the truth. You needed to know that I am in love with you.”

Before Hermione could say anything else, they hear a loud pop. The house elf has returned with the tea and sandwiches. The two of them sit up, and Draco helps Hermione fluff the pillows behind her. Jollie levitates the two trays and gently places them in front of The Minister and her Master. The elf has been in with the family since Scorpius was born. She was originally his nanny, but her role changed to head of household staff after the boy went off to school. Though a free elf, she is fiercely loyal to the Malfoy family. She has seen her Master go through the depths of depression and climb himself out. He has been much happier over the past few months, and she finally figures out why. The minister is wearing lingerie that suggests something other than friendly chat will happen tonight.

With a crooked smile, the elf asks, “Minister, Master Draco, will this be all for tonight?”

“Yes, Jollie. Thank you. You may go back to sleep. I will just put the trays in the seating area when we are done.” Draco knows his elf suspects something is going on. He has always liked how clever and nurturing she is. Though he had loyal and kind-hearted elves throughout his life, none were as witty or possess the same personality as Jollie.

“Very well. Good night, Master Draco. Minister Granger.” She gives them a wink and disapparates.

“Oh, she has a cheeky side, doesn’t she?” Hermione says as she nudges Draco’s side.

“You have no idea. Drink your tea and eat up, love. I know how much you drank tonight and you barely ate.” Draco has a fierce protective side and it is coming through in full force. Personally, he is also enjoying telling Hermione what to do. Not many people will challenge her and put her in her place.

Hermione is grinning like a fool. He’s never called her anything other than Hermione, Granger, and well, the offensive slurs from their childhood. Being called, ‘love,’ takes her by surprise as she never imagined that Draco would be the type to use terms of endearment. What pet name would befit this handsome, complicated man? She can’t come up with anything appropriate, so she says the first thing that pops into her mind, “Anything you say, sexy.”

“Whoa. ‘sexy,' huh? Already putting expectations on me, I see. You’re not getting anything until I know you’re well.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a bite of his sandwich.

Hermione sighs and eats her meal and drinks her tea. Draco was right; this does make her feel much better. The butterflies in her stomach are fluttering faster and faster, and it has nothing to do with the food or the panic attack. “So. How long have you known you were in love with me?”

After taking a sip of tea, he looks at her and says, “Since sixth year.”

“No, that was when you realized you fancied me,” she says before taking another sip of her tea.

“After Godric’s Hollow.”

“No, that was when you realized you _still_ fancied me.”

“Okay. Fair.” He stuffs the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth and thinks while he chews, “Then I would have to say, when you said, well rather sang, you were in love with me. I know they were just song lyrics, but it felt like much more.”

“During the graduation party?” She thinks about the song and starts singing it in her head, “I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” She lets herself kiss him softly and revel in the realizations.

“Yes, you did.” He says with a smirk, “Enough stalling. Finish your sandwich and tea.”

“You’re so bossy,” she says before taking the last few bites and sips. “There, all done.”

He gives her a kiss and says, “Mmm. Mustard.”

“And you taste like horseradish. Sorry, but sandwiches aren’t what you would consider ‘sexy’ food.”

“Would you like me to call up for oysters, strawberries, and champagne?” He teases.

She rolls her eyes knowing that he could actually make that happen, but replies, “A toothbrush would be fine.”

“Your wish is my command.” He takes a teaspoon and transfigures it into a toothbrush. Then with a wave of his wand, moves the trays off the bed. “Let’s go freshen up.”

Draco gets out of bed first and walks around to her side and extends his hand. He helps her up, and they walk hand-in-hand to his opulent bathroom. Hermione thought her bathroom at the Minister’s Mansion is swanky, but the master bath at Malfoy Manor is something else. It is covered in floor-to-ceiling white marble with black and green granite accents set in an Art Deco styling. One of the many interesting things about these old mansions is how the rooms get renovated at different times throughout the decades. The homes themselves become a collection of art and design history. The tub resembled a Roman bath, similar to the prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts complete with different bath potions. The shower had multiple shower heads with various functions and water pressures. An enormous walk-in closet, with all of Draco’s fine, tailored suits, robes, along with the rest of his wardrobe, is connected to the bathroom. The double sink has all of his things on one side, and the other side is completely empty—waiting for her.

Draco passes Hermione the toothpaste, and she says, “thanks.”

After they are all minty fresh and clean faced, Draco grabs Hermione by the waist and kisses her, urging her lips to part so she can taste the spearmint on his tongue. “Better?”

“Loads.”

Their hands start exploring each other picking up where they left off in the secret passage, but this time with far less restrictive clothing and no husband waiting on the other side of the wall. Like earlier, Hermione takes the lead and starts unbuttoning his silk pajamas. He gently tugs at one of the straps exposing her breast. He rakes his teeth over her skin and feels the goosebumps form. His tongue flicks at her nipple to her delight. He gently starts sucking them into his mouth.

She moans in ecstasy and tries to form words, “I want you. More than anything.”

He playfully drags his teeth off of her nub and brings his mouth close to hers. With barely a whisper, he says, “Are you sure?”

Her hand slips down his pajama bottoms and starts stroking him. His eyes start to roll to the back of his head. It's been so long since he's felt anyone's touch other than his own. She brings her lips up to his ears and responds, “Yes.”

As good as it feels, Draco wants to take care of her first. He guides her arms around his neck as he scoops up her petite frame. She eagerly hops up and wraps her legs around his waist. He walks her back to the bed and places her head upon his silken pillow. 

The fire inside of her is now fully ablaze. This passion is what she craved and ached for. She wants him, and only him. She was so naive not to see the signs. What is happening now was years in the making.

“Draco, It’s been so long for me. I don’t want to disappoint you.” She’s genuinely afraid as she hasn’t had a proper lover in so long. Would she live up to his fantasies?

“It's been a long time for me, too. The first time probably won't last long," he strokes her face and reassures her, "If it’s not great, we can try all night until we have satisfied each other.”

“Honestly, just being close to you is more satisfied than I've been in years.” Her words fuel his hunger, and he begins kissing and caressing her. He gently rolls up the silk and pulls the delicate fabric over her head. His fingertips lightly graze over all the curves of her body. Soft kisses and little nibbles on her chest and abdomen make her body writhe with pleasure. His gentleness reignites a part of her that has been long dormant. She can't help but give into his advances. When he finally reaches his destination, his lips almost brushing her mound, his gray eyes seek her consent, to which she can barely mutter, “please.”

His exploration of her sends her senses wild. His tongue is agile and skilled; every lick and thrust of his tongue is electric. She wonders if he was telling the truth about not being with anyone for years or if he is just naturally talented. “Fuck me,” she says.

“Not yet. We’re just getting warmed up.” He looks up at her with his lips already glistening with her essence before going back to work.

She can't even see straight or remember if she's ever experienced pleasure like this. Is it because it's new or because it has been so long? Either way, she doesn't want it to stop. She lets herself melt into him while running her fingers through his hair. Her face contorts as his hands touch her. He starts off slowly and then changes the pace and technique. He cups his hand so his long slender fingers are pointing upward and the heel of his hand can also put pressure in the right spot. The movement is fast and in a rotating motion. It only takes seconds, and explosions ripple through her body and can feel an incredible amount of wetness between her legs. She’s experienced orgasms, but nothing like this. Years of sexual frustration taking the corporeal form of water rushing from a breaking dam. Completely out of breath she says, “What was that?”

“Number one.” He says coyly and repeats the motion, and as promised, she has another orgasm. Seeing the enthrallment in her facial expressions and voice, along with her body's undulations, begin to bring his bravado back. “I think you have one more that needs to be released.”

“I don't know if there will be anything left of me.” She buckles under the final wave and feels like a pile of jelly. Her brain has gone fuzzy and asks, “How did you do that?”

“Magic?”

“Very funny.”

She reaches up to kiss him and playfully bites his lip and pulls away. There is something about the pain he enjoys and returns the favor with a little nibble on her ear. Apparently, she enjoys it, too. She moves backward toward the pillows as he crawls above her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

As their bodies meet for the first time, he gasps. He didn't know what it would be like to finally be one with her; she has a tightness that one wouldn’t expect from a woman who had two children. He, on the other hand, has the undeniable vigor of someone who has been pining over this woman for most of his life. They both relish the moment. He kisses her and continues his rocking, trying to go as slowly as possible. His body has missed contact as much as his heart has missed having someone to love. Their hands continue to wander and explore, searching, memorizing every curve, peak, and valley. The euphoria takes over her as she moves her hands to his back and drags her fingernails down his damp skin. All of their senses are engaged — The tastes of each other’s kiss, the sounds of their bodies moving together and the animalistic sounds of pleasure. The rhythm grows faster, and realize neither of them can hold out much longer. When he releases, his groans are deep and guttural. Completely spent, and drained he collapses on top of her. They kiss and look into each other's eyes and can't help but laugh. After he rolls off of her, and she finds herself snuggling back into his chest. She becomes more and more comfortable in this spot it's becoming one of her favorite places in the whole world. He also enjoys the growing familiarity, and his fingers run through her hair and trail down her back.

“I'm sorry that didn't last very long,” he says while panting.

“Don't apologize. The things you made me feel, I can't even describe. I've never experienced anything like that,” she's also out of breath and has trouble responding.

Cheekily he asks, “So would you say you're satisfied?”

“For now,” she looks up with a sly smile and kisses him. “If you hadn’t destroyed that time-turner tonight, I would have gone back and told my teenage self that Draco Malfoy is an incredible shag.”

“Well, I would tell myself Hermione Granger is a lot easier than you thought.” Half-appalled and half-impressed with the joke, she attacks him, and they begin to play fight. After the uncontrollable laughter further wears them out, he asks, “Okay, honestly. Was the last time you were properly shagged over a year ago?”

“No. I told you that was the last time I had sex. I haven’t been properly shagged since 2000, Davy Middleton.”

“Merlin's pants. That’s thirty years. One, who is Davy Middleton? Two, seriously, how did you stay married to someone who was so inept at fucking?” he asks almost distraught.

“Oh, you are asking about Davy? That’s interesting. Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. He’s not in bed with you right now. I am,” he says confidently pulling her closer.

“Good. Because you have nothing to worry about. He was a childhood friend that I ran into at Cambridge whilst visiting Justin. Rugby player. Ron and I were taking a break. Only happened once. Well...four times in one night.”

“Hmm…” He looks at her very provocative gaze. She’s trying to egg him on. He’s sure of it.  

“I'm wide awake. Do you have any ideas of what else we can do?” she inquires very suggestively while walking her fingers down his chest to his bellybutton.

“You’re a saucy little minx, aren’t you? Give me a little bit to recover.” He reaches over to the nightstand, pulls out a book, and passes it to her. “There is this.”

“'Lovers Libations: Elixirs to Excite, Extend, and Enlarge.' Hmm, a potions book full of naughty concoctions.” She lets out a chuckle. “Professor Snape must be rolling in his grave. Let's see, 'Male Engorgement Potion.' Don't need that.” She gives him a nudge, and he kisses her on the neck. “’Longevity for Lovers. This potion will give you and your partner stamina and arousal for up to four hours.’ Goodness. I don't think I've had stamina like that since I was in my early twenties. I'll mark that one.” She doesn't notice his eyes widen at the thought of what she has planned for him. Her fingers continue to flip through and pass some fascinating recipes for infatuation, breast enlargement, increased sensitivity, and she finds another one that appeals to her. “'Slippery Solution improve lubrication from the inside. No sticky residue because it comes from you!' Interesting potion but who writes these things? Some randy, old witch, I presume. Well, both of these only take about thirty minutes to brew.”

“So, do you want to do this?” He asks imploringly. There is a glimmer in her eye, the same one she gets every time she receives a challenge.

“Wait. Why did you have this book just sitting around?” She asks him, but he just looks back at her and bites his bottom lip with a devilish grin. “Am I that predictable? Did you know I would somehow end up in your bedroom tonight and not wait until going to Europe?”

“Maybe. Well, I hoped. If not, there was a pretty good formula for personal lubricant I would have used if you didn’t show up.”

“Oh, I still took care of myself before coming over,” she says with a smile and a wink

“Oh sweet Merlin,” his mind wanders for a moment, “You’ll have to show me one day.”

“If you wish, I can arrange for that to happen,” as she says the words, the hunger grows in his eyes, “But about these potions. I never get to make potions anymore. It's all paperwork and diplomacy. This sounds like a lot of fun, and the results look like even more fun.” They pull each other in for more heated kisses.

As they dress, but she remembers she doesn't have house slippers, so she puts on her heels. They grab their wands and start walking down to the potions room. She is about to transfigure the heels into something more comfortable, but Draco says something to change her mind.

“Your legs look incredibly sexy wearing those shoes. I don’t know if we are going to need to end up making that potion.” He says then stops to press her up against the wall. She's putty in his arms. “I’ve always loved the way you dressed.”

“So you like the fact that I’ve rebelled against wizard culture and wear mostly muggle clothes?” 

“Oh, yes,” he says as he nips at her neck and chest.

“I’m sorry, but traditional witch clothing and shoes are well, horrid. I never wanted to look like I came out of a Charles Dickens novel. Me only wearing muggle clothing was my silent protest to the old codgers at the Ministry. To be honest, it feels sexy and empowering looking different.”

“Even when we were in school, and you wore those low slung muggle jeans. Damn, they drove me crazy. Honestly, most of what witches wear has never done it for me. Just reminds me of my mother. So many layers.” They share a laugh, but he steals another kiss and squeeze of her bum, which she returns with a squeeze of his and playfully pushes him away.

After the laughing, teasing and tickling, they finally reach his potions room. It's a decent sized room with shelves of jars and ingredients wrapping the room. There is a large wooden table in the center. Draco asks, “could you, please start gathering the ingredients and I'll get the cauldrons started?”

“Of course,” she replies takes off her dressing gown. 

He enjoys watching her move around the room. Compared to earlier that evening, she looks much more comfortable in his home. She flips through the book to see what she needs and uses her wand to retrieve the ingredients on the higher shelves, and they all float toward the table. Draco starts separating the components while Hermione brings the last of them. They chop and measure, enjoying the process.

Draco says, “I guess this is what it’s like when couples cook together? I wouldn't know because I don't cook.”

"Neither do I," she replies.  

They both laugh, and she loves it. They laugh a lot when they are together and not because of any stupid jokes or gags. The humor they share is witty and sarcastic. All the ingredients are now in the cauldrons, and Draco sits back on a stool to wait. Hermione leans over the table watching the potions bubble. He can't help but notice her back arch.

“Now this seems familiar...” a naughty smirk grows on his face. He looks over at her, but it appears she didn't hear what he said. Draco conjures a small gust of air to lift up her dress and expose her bottom. Not surprisingly, she barely notices. Wistfully he states, “Ah, memories.”

“What memories?”

“Did you honestly not notice me lift up your skirt with a gust of air?”

“I thought it was a draft.” And he starts laughing hard as the memories flood in. Annoyed, she demands, “What's so funny?”

It takes him a moment to regain his composure. “You and all the girls in our class never noticed before either.”

“What are you talking about?” Looking slightly irritated that he's not forthcoming with an answer.

“So you never noticed the potions classroom was exceptionally drafty in early fall and spring and never in winter?”

“Still not following.”

“Okay, so in our fifth and sixth year, Blaise and I used to do this,” and demonstrated the spell, “to all the girls during potions, and no one ever noticed. It was so drafty in the dungeons that you girls all thought it was the vents. We would never do it in the winter when you were covered up with tights. Okay, you know what you were saying about how horrid witch clothing was, well the pureblood girls had the ugliest knickers. But you Muggle-borns and half-bloods, blimey, had the sexiest things. Satin, lace, mesh, different colors, some that looked like no fabric at all. There was this one time I aimed at you, so perfectly it lifted everything. You were wearing a sheer white thong, and we could see you had shaved everything off. Blaise instantly creamed his pants. I put it in the wank bank and ran to the loo right after class. After that, Blaise and I had to reconsider our pureblood only dating policy.”

“On the one hand, I'm utterly disgusted that you would objectify all of us. However, I feel a bit smug that I was able to make you and Blaise Zabini cum without ever touching you. Still, you chose the girls with the granny panties.”

“Thankfully I've seen the error of my ways.” He grabs her by the waist. His hands enter through the slits of the skirt and run his fingertips on the back of her legs and arse.

“You’re such a pervert.” She says in a tone that sounds more seductive than disapproving. “Who would have thought things would end up like this?”

“If it was back then, no one. Not even us. You quite literally made me wipe your memory because I kissed you.”

“That sounds so terrible when you put it like that. Wow, I was really dramatic.”

“Well, it was terrible. Because that kiss was amazing and it fucked me up in the head, and if you had your memories you probably wouldn’t have kept shagging McLaggen.”

“You’re jealous!”

“I was so close.”

“No. You really weren’t,” she teases and loves seeing the shock on his face.

“Bollocks. I saw inside your head. You loved me touching you.”

“Yes, that was concussed Draco. The real teenage you didn’t have a chance.”  

“Oh shut up.” He grabs her by the waist and starts kissing her. His lips can’t get enough of her and has decades to make up for.

The timer goes off, and he says to her, “It's ready,” he says. He summons two bottles with dropper caps. To cool the potions more quickly, he levitates the liquid out of the cauldrons and stretches them into long ribbons and then fills the bottles.

“That's a brilliant technique.” She says to him very impressed. “I'll label them.” She goes over to the book and reads the dosage suggestions. “So the one we both take is two droppers full. The one I take is one dropper full.”

“Bottoms up. Here is to the next few hours.” They mischievously look into each other’s eyes with anticipation for the night ahead.


	7. Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Sorry if the last chapter was just a little too saucy for your taste. This one is the afterglow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Mama2HPBabies

 

## March 2030

The rest of the night became a mix of passion and frolicking. Every room in the manor became their playground. Chaise lounges, table tops, banisters, rugs—nothing was off limits. At one point the chorus of ancestral portraits became so enraged by the impropriety, Draco had no choice than to shut them up — by blasting them off the wall entirely. Over the years, Draco had become less sentimental about the preservation of antiquities, especially once his long dead ancestors began insulting his son and heir for associating with half-bloods and blood traitors.

For even a few hours, it felt like they had regained youth. It was reckless, joyful, and thrilling.

They finally make their way back to his bedroom before dawn breaks. He pours two glasses of whisky to help them relax and sleep. They drain the amber liquid and settle into each other. For the first time since she arrived, she looks at her mobile and says, “Not a single call or text.”

He takes out his mobile and takes pictures of her when she doesn’t notice. The early morning sunlight casts highlights over her curves, and he wants to remember this. Photos were much easier to reference than a pensieve.

She hears clicking and slowly turns to face him, with a coy smile. “Oh, are we at that point already?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he responds with a naughty, boyish grin.

“My turn,” she says as she also starts snapping away.  He looks the other way, embarrassed, but she’s able to capture a very natural smile.

“Let me see,” he swipes through the gallery, impressed with her skills as a photographer. “Not bad. So can we take pictures when we—”

"We'll see," she interjects with a convincing grin. They put away their devices and settle in under the covers, and the repercussions of their actions start to hit her.  She asks him, “What is this? What are we?”

A slight panic comes over him as he fears her growing remorseful. "What do you want this to be? When I confessed my affections for you, I would have been content if we remained friends. Now that I have you here with me—I want you and all of you. If we have to put a hold until things get sorted, we can wait.”

Face-to-face she can see how much this affects him. "I don't want it to stop. Being with you is—how do I even describe it? You make me feel complete," as she says this, Draco's sigh of relief is audible. She kisses him in reassurance and traces the outlines of his face. "But the divorce can take weeks, and that's if Ron’s compliant. I do want to be with you, but I don't want to humiliate him publicly, or our families. We can't be open with this relationship until it's time."

"So you are saying this is a relationship?"

"I guess I am. Until the divorce is final, we will have to exercise a degree of discretion, and we can't see each other as often as we like. In public, Scorpius and Rose will always have to be around. If I use the Floo, they can track my movements, and all apparition has to occur outside of our homes. That is, if you end up taking that translation post, you could be training at the Ministry, and I could find reasons for you to see me. Oh, and we can't tell the kids until after their wedding. I mean, Rose wanted me to get divorced, but I don’t want her worrying about this and —"

"Stop,” Draco interrupts her once again and shakes his head, “Hermione. You are overthinking this. I can always find an opportunity, don't worry about that." Their gaze still locked as he strokes the hair framing her face. He somehow has the ability to calm her anxiety rather than agitate it. "You have the most beautiful green flecks in your eyes. Maybe you should consider adding more green to your wardrobe—to make your eyes stand out."

She blushes as she is staring into his own gray eyes, "I do wear green on occasion."

"Emeralds. You need emeralds."

"Oh do I?"

"Absolutely."

She's not quite sure what he's suggesting, but she's afraid that it will be extravagant and conspicuous. The light is starting to creep into the room, and she glances down at his arm and sees the faded scar tissue of his Dark Mark. It's the first time she's noticed it. She traces it and looks up at him. “Did it hurt?”

He then says, “Yes, it burned every time it would reveal itself or when He called. I hoped it would fade more, but it still shows.”

She then shows him her scars of where his aunt engraved “MUDBLOOD” into her arm and says, “I let my scars stay too. I wanted a reminder of why I need to keep fighting.”

Draco then kisses her on the scar knowing he played a role in her receiving it then says,  “Are you sure that you want to resign after the end of this term? You’ve been the best Minister in over a hundred years. You’ve pushed so many new laws and been an ambassador of why we need more friendly relations between muggles and muggle-borns. I may have turned a new leaf, but there are still some pureblood families that are very hard to convince.”

His earnestness stirs a certain pride in her. She smiles and scratches his scruff. “It’s time for the next generation to take over. Look at Rose and Scorpius. Rose has picked up where I left off working with The Department of Magical and Muggle Business Affairs. The number of new businesses registered with the department is astounding. I never understood why no one else had thought about having businesses that service both muggle and magical clientele? With all the half-bloods, muggle-borns, and those who marry muggles, there was a massive need. Now we have thriving businesses with lawyers, designers, estate agents, healthcare and more that have certification and training to work in both worlds. Rose has really done an amazing job taking over that department."

Draco laughs at how Hermione still tends to ramble about topics she is passionate about, never realizing there are others who are also versed in those subjects. 

She continues, “And Scorpius. He’s the youngest school governor in history, re-developing the curriculum and student advocacy. Not to mention he has created resources to help kids who are being bullied and transitional support for Muggle-borns and their parents. Look, with their combined efforts." Hermione sits up, suddenly excited to boast about their children's accomplishments. "Muggle parents know of their children’s abilities much sooner in life, and we can easily transition into this world with healers who are trained in the muggle medical practices or take them to a preschool full of other witch and wizard toddlers. Our work has opened so many doors.”

Hermione's keen use of intellect, combined with a gravelly post-sex voice was alluring and almost distracts him from the conversation. “Our children are pretty amazing, aren't they?” Draco views Scorpius as his greatest achievement and beams with pride anyone mentions his son’s accomplishments.

“They are. I envy them sometimes. Their lives have been so normal.” Much like Draco, Hermione also feels their generation were dealt an unfair hand.

“You created a lot of change when you were working with magical creatures, but you have a natural business sense. Overhauling the entire way the wizarding community does business and the economy—was revolutionary,” Draco tells Hermione, who can’t help but blush. “I’m so glad you convinced me to invest in some of those start-ups years ago. Yes, the investments made me, even more, money, but I also enjoyed spending time with my investment partners—mainly you.”

“Is that the real reason you were so eager to invest? I always thought it was part of ‘carving your own path.’”

“Both,” he says with a smirk.  

Hermione gets back on topic, “I’m proud of my work, but the next generation is ready. I don’t want to be that minister that gets old and dusty and doesn’t let new ideas flourish.”

As much as Draco loves discussing politics, economics, and their children, he has other concerns. “So what are your plans now?”

“Travel. Definitely. Every time Albus tells me about some new, exotic place he visited, it makes me long to do the same. That child is such a nomad. I also have offers for book signings and would like to do some more writing. Oh, and I can't forget about what all retired politicians do—speaking engagements and consulting. I have a lot of options I can take advantage of at my leisure. But more than anything, I would like to include you in my plans.”

That is what he needs to hear. This relationship feels like it is moving so quickly, but in actuality, it isn’t. This relationship has been building for years—it was just overlapping another. They kiss and aren’t intimidated by the idea of a future together. It feels strangely natural as if this path was inevitable. “Let’s try to get a little sleep,” he says to her with a sense of calm and they nod off.

—xoxox—

It feels as if they had just dozed off when they awaken to the sound of barking echoing through the house. “Dad? We’re here. Ready to head to the farmers market?”

"Hermione," Draco tries to wake her up and shakes her by the shoulders, “Love. Wake up. You need to go. The kids are here.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Hermione throws the covers over her head, and Draco can’t help but laugh. Who knew she was such a deep sleeper?

“Shit. We are so done,” he reaches for his wand and casts a disillusionment charm to make his bed look as though he is the only one occupying it.

Scorpius walks into his father’s room and his English Bulldog puppy, Titus, follows close behind. He sees his father shirtless, the covers and pillows all askew, two empty glasses, the two trays, and a pair of black high heels. “Dad...Who spent the night?”

“No one,” Draco looks down at Hermione still sleeping and scratches her back to see if she wakes up.

“Dad?” Scorpius is thoroughly annoyed that his father is avoiding the question.

“Just someone from the party,” Draco says but almost lets out a soft moan as Hermione’s hand reaches across and grabs the inside of his thigh.

“These aren’t the type of shoes the I saw most of our guests wearing last night. Most witches don’t wear muggle brands. These are Christian Louboutins that cost over eight hundred pounds. I know because my fiancée has an unhealthy habit of collecting them. So I’m going to ask you again, who was here?”

Hermione seems as though she is starting to wake but isn’t completely aware of the situation.

Rose comes into the room and sees Scorpius holding the shoes. “Oh these are cute, Mum has the same pair.”

At the sound of Rose’s voice, Hermione’s eyes shoot open widely. She mouths to Draco, “what's going on?” He puts a finger over her lips in a shushing motion.

“No! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! No! No! No! No!” Scorpius repeats over and over with his face in his hands. He’s pacing around the room in complete disbelief. The puppy just barks and follows him around.

Hermione shuts her mouth tight trying not to laugh and pokes Draco with her finger. He tickles her back, and she squirms thrashing under the covers.  

It takes Rose a second to look around and process everything. “Draco! Did you fuck my mum?!?” She claps her hands over her mouth in disbelief.

“Oh Rose, don’t say it like that. But, yeah.” He can't even hide the boastfulness in his voice and looks down at Hermione with a wink.

“Oh God! Dad! Stop!” Scorpius looks as if he’s going to pass out.

“Okay, let me explain. But first, can you two get out of here so I can put on some trousers?” Draco asks.

“We’ll turn around. Explain.” Says Rose in a stern tone.

Draco sighs and whispers to Hermione to stay down. He stands up and pulls on his pants and pajama bottoms. “You can turn around. Rose, your mother wanted to wait to tell you until after the wedding, but she didn’t want to add to your stress. She filed for divorce last night after the party.”

“How long has this been going on? Oh God, did something happen on the cruise?”

“This is the first time—well the first time, we um—I mean we kissed before in school, but nothing happened after that. Mainly because she had me erase her memory because I was—well, me. That and she was seeing someone else at the time. Not your dad.” Draco scratches his head and Hermione giggles under the covers, unable to believe how ridiculous he sounds.

“Draco, what the hell are you talking about?” Rose remarks, astounded at the revelations about her mother’s past.

Hermione looks up at Draco and shakes her head. He realizes he was mumbling like an idiot and tries to explain, “Rose. Last night was the first time your mother and I were _intimate_ , but I’m not going to deny that we have had feelings for each other for years and just chose never to act upon those feelings.”

“I wish I could say I was upset or surprised, but I'm not. My brother and I have been urging our parents to get divorced for years. Honestly surprised they made it this far. And actually, not even that upset about this. I guess I always had a feeling.” Rose tells them.

“Really?” Says Scorpius. “Well, I mean, I had my suspicions too, but I’m still gobsmacked. My dad just shagged your mum.”

“And your dad still looks fit.” Rose looks Draco up and down. “I have the next twenty-five years to look forward to.”

“Um, thanks?” Scorpius responds. The situation is mortifying, but Draco just laughs.

“But when did Mum leave?” Rose seems to be processing something. Scorpius can see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

“Um,” Draco replies.

“Is she still here?” Scorpius asks. He sees his father’s stupid smirk and figures as much. “Seriously, Dad? _Revelio_.”

The counter charm reveals a lump under the covers. Hermione peeks her head out and waves to Scorpius and Rose with a very mischievous smile. Draco grabs her negligee and dressing gown off the floor and levitates the duvet to become a privacy screen between themselves and their children. Hermione’s giggling is almost uncontrollable as she takes her clothes from Draco. He takes in her naked form and gives her approval with a shrug of his eyebrows. She pushes his bare chest, but he grabs her by the wrists and gives her a kiss. They look at each other with a knowing look that their children are going to reprimand their behavior.

“Hello, Mother. Get dressed. We need to have a damage control plan,” Rose chastises her mother from behind the makeshift barrier. Hermione realizes how this role reversal must look to outsiders and Draco just laughs at how ridiculous this situation is in general. She throws her clothes on hastily and attempts to wipe the sleep out of her eyes and stands next to Draco as he lays the duvet back down.

Rose stands with her arms crossed and has the heels dangling from the tips of her fingers. Hermione realizes they were a dead giveaway, “Oh. The Louboutins.”

“Yes, Mum. The Louboutins.” Rose looks irritated with her mother but still gives her a hug. “I knew this was coming and it’s okay. I’m relieved that you and Dad are finally parting ways and we’re going to help.”

“Oh, my Rosie.” She kisses her daughter on the top of her head. “Okay, let’s all sit down,” she said, motioning to the seating area.” They all walk over and take seats. Rose puts the puppy in her lap.

“Okay, this is my plan, but now that you can help, all the better. Your Aunt Ginny knows since she went with me when I had the papers drafted months ago. Last night I finally signed them after your father and I got into a huge, final fight. I texted Justin Finch-Fletchley copies of the signed documents and will visit his office later. He has both muggle and magical law degrees, so he’ll be the best to help us navigate the divorce with both governments. I have some muggle assets and need to protect what isn’t part of the prenup. I’m hoping this doesn’t get too sticky. And, I was going to call Rita Skeeter, God how is that cow still alive?” they laugh as they have all been subject to an article or two of hers. “But I was going to let her break the story of me stepping down from being Minister if she holds the story of the divorce until after the wedding. If she still won’t, she can have exclusive rights to report the big event and she gets a seat at a guest table.”

“And if what if that isn’t enough?” Rose asks her mother.

Draco speaks up, “Tell her about us.” Hermione nods.

“Dad. Really?” Scorpius sounds incredibly skeptical while Hermione and Draco appear a bit offended.

“In any scenario, Scorpius, our coupling would be juicy gossip for a woman like Rita, but she can’t break that story until after she releases the story of the divorce. I know she would LOVE to break the divorce and mine and Draco’s relationship at the same time. Divorce is scandal enough in the world of politics but mix that with cheating I might as well resign tomorrow and not even finish out my term. I would like it to appear as though we started seeing each other after the divorce was finalized. And if she still won’t hold the story, remind her that I’m Minister for Magic, and I know she’s an unregistered animagus. I put her in a jar once. I can do it again.” She and Draco look at each other and smile, but their kids look shocked.

“Oh. Okay,” says Scorpius.

“Dad. What are you doing about Dad?” says Rose.

“I’m giving him a choice. He can stay in the guest room, or he can take the Summer House. Either way, we are out in six months when my term ends.” Hermione is so level headed and tactical. You can tell this isn’t the first fire she’s put out.

“And family? Who are we telling?” Rose is terrified to tell anyone on the Weasley side. She can already sense their ginger wrath.

“I want as few people to know as possible so that we are cordial at the wedding. We are going to keep it to you and me, Dad, Hugo, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, and Albus. Harry, Ginny, and Albus are iron clad. You can never get them to spill the beans. We don’t need to worry about telling James or Lily because they won’t even be back in the country until the wedding. James is going back to his post in Kurdistan sometime this week, and Lily is leaving to cover a story. Your other cousins should stay in the dark. Your Aunt Ginny said she would help me deal with your grandparents.”

“Rose, will you handle Rita?” Hermione asks her daughter.

“Of course. God, I want to punch that bitch,” Rose says with annoyance in her voice.

“We all do,” says Draco. “But she’s a necessary evil. She’s one of the few staffers who’ll hold to their word.

“Okay. I need to head home, get dressed, and make an appointment with Justin,” she tells them but is just realizing how weirdly calm everyone is. “Does this weird you two out?”

“Can you just stay partners and never get married? I would prefer that Rose and I not become step-brother and step-sister?” Scorpius says half-joking, half not.

“We’ll try,” Draco responds.

Before exiting through the fireplace, Hermione hugs Rose and Scorpius goodbye and kisses Draco without even thinking. Hermione’s dressing gown slips open, and Scorpius accidentally gets a glimpse of Hermione in her negligee as the flames engulf her. “Well, Rose, I guess I will also enjoy the next twenty-five years. Your mum is well fit.”

“Okay. I hear it now. Weird.”

Draco says, “Can we skip the farmers market? I am utterly knackered and didn’t get any sleep.”

Scorpius and Rose both cringe at Draco’s innuendo. The younger Malfoy is having a bit of trouble being mature about the situation. He tries to remind himself that his father is still young enough to have a sex life—hell, he is entitled to one. Scorpius can’t even imagine going a day or two without it, and his father has gone over a decade. If he wants his father to be happy, Scorpius will have to accept his father is human and has needs.

Scorpius turns and says to Rose, “Babe, can you take Titus out for a bit. I need to talk to my Dad.”

Rose looks at Scorpius quizzically and responds, “Sure. I’ll take breakfast in the garden. Meet me out there?”

“See you there in a bit,” he reaches over and kisses Rose before she walks out and closes the door behind her.

Draco is dreading what Scorpius could possibly want to talk about, so he initiates the conversation. “So, is my son going to lecture me about sleeping with a married woman, especially one who will be his mother-in-law?”

Scorpius paces around rubbing his face looking for the words. He has a lot of the same nervous ticks his father does—Scorpius ruffles his hair and scratches the back of his head—but also has a few of his mother’s like twirling his wand nervously. It takes him a few moments and comes to the conclusion that directness is the best route. “Are you in love with Hermione?”

Draco takes a deep breath and tells his son, “Yes. I have been. For a long time.”

“Like how long are we talking?”

“Oh—” Draco huffs and looks around as if searching the inside of his brain for answers, “she asked me the same question, and I want to say at least five years. I had a crush on her when we were in school, but we never did anything about it, well—because of who I used to be.”

Scorpius has heard all about the kind of person his father was in his youth. It’s hard to believe when he thinks about how loving, accepting, protective, and genuine he is now. “So for five years, you have been in love with Hermione and did absolutely nothing about it. Why?”

“Well, for the obvious reasons—she was married, she’s your girlfriend's, well now, fiancee’s mother, I wasn’t sure she felt the same way,” Draco pauses as guilt starts to bubble up inside of him, “and I still love your mother. Part of me always will.”

Scorpius smiles at the mention of his mother, “You know, mum told me this day would come.”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s curiosity is piqued.

“When mum was close to the end, she told me that wizards live a very, very long time and that you were far too young to be alone for the rest of your life. She knew that you would try to punish yourself and live without love. She hoped that maybe, just maybe one day you would find it again. Mum told me that I would need to tell you it was okay. She wanted you to be happy and to find love. She knew how much you loved her and that she would always be a part of you.”

Draco is getting a bit emotional but doesn’t interrupt his son, “Dad, you don’t need to feel guilty that you are betraying her. She only ever wanted you to be happy and loved. You also don’t need to worry about me. I know no one could ever replace her and you never tried to do that. As totally weird, and borderline fucked up it is that you are in a relationship with Hermione, I already love her. I’ve admired her since I was a little boy, then fell in love with how nurturing she is to everyone she meets and has treated me as a part of the family since before Rose and I started dating. I can see why you fell in love with her and looking back; there were probably signs.”

Draco walks over to his son and squeezes his shoulder, “Scorpius, there are times when you speak, I feel Astoria is in the room. You’re so much like her—loving, honest, completely aware of the world around you, and curious to a fault,” the seriousness eases with some laughter, “but knowing I have yours and your mother’s blessing to move on does give me peace of mind.”

“You know this isn’t going to be an easy road, right Dad?” Scorpius is worried about the predicament his father has put himself in as well as his own relationship with his future in-laws, “Mr. Weasley has a temper and is incredibly possessive.”

“Hermione can handle herself and has gone through all the legal channels. I would like to hope that we can handle this like adults,” Draco has an idea of what Scorpius is worried about, “but if he does anything to her, Rose, or you, then I’ll step in, and Weasley does not want that.”

“You know he hates you, right?”

“What’s new?”

“So you’ve always hated each other?”

“Pretty much.”

“He’s going to be my father-in-law and grandfather to my children, one day. We are going to have to figure out how to be civil.”

“Scorpius. We can’t predict Weasley’s behavior. What we can do is take the high road and anticipate possible outcomes. We use our civility and restraint, but stay alert.” He looks at his son and places a hand on each shoulder, “I know we have put you and Rose in an impossible situation, and I promise you, we will get through this. Weasley will just have to deal because this is the new reality. I’m with Hermione, and you’re with Rose.”    

“This is way too much right now. Come down to the garden and eat breakfast with us. You can sleep after.”

“Alright. Let me freshen up, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sounds good.”

With a loud pop, Jollie has arrived with a fresh set of sheets and a new duvet. “Good morning, Master Draco, Master Scorpius. I figured you would need some fresh linens after all the ruckus last night.”

Draco bursts out laughing, and Scorpius goes scarlet.


	8. Closing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the reconstruction of Hogwarts. We see the beginnings of a new friendship that will end up being a very important one to Hermione in the future.
> 
> Beta: Mama2HPBabies

May 1998

It had been three weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. Many of the funerals had taken place, and most of the dead were accounted for. The damage to the castle and grounds is extensive—more than a few _reparo_ charms could fix. For the repairing spell to work, you would still need elements of the original object. Parts of Hogwarts are completely obliterated. On top of everything, a lot of dark magic and negative energy still lingered.

 While the younger students retreated to their homes, all those of age stayed to sift through the rubble and rebuild. Finding highly skilled, adult volunteers proved harder than imagined. Survivors of the war were not yet ready to dedicate themselves to service — many were still trying to reunite with family or were dealing with their roles as guardians over newly orphaned children. Some were simply too shaken up by their grief to move forward. Much of the reconstruction effort fell onto the younger generation of current students and recent graduates.  

 The ministry is still in shambles. Kingsley Shacklebolt has more than his fair share of work to deal with including the trials against Death Eaters. The Shacklebolt Era will be one of fairness and due process. He has no choice but to prioritize the court dates based on offenses and prior records. As the Malfoys had defected to the side of the Order before the end of the Battle, not to mention the fact that Narcissa Malfoy had aided in the protection of Harry Potter, their trials will be some of the last to take place. Their legal counsel suggested they take preemptive measures and have Draco volunteer for the reconstruction effort as well as make a substantial donation to the school. Their lawyer felt optimistic about Draco and Narcissa’s cases, but couldn't say the same about Lucius. Although the Malfoys have time on their side, all the positive press they can garner would be welcome.

Quidditch players from Hogwarts past and present representing all four houses stared at the scorched earth that was once their pitch. There wasn’t a splinter of the stands left, not even a single scarlet, gold, green, silver, black, or blue thread from one of the house banners. Oliver Wood had fought during the battle and plucked many bodies from the carnage, but nothing made him as emotional as this sight. Actually—almost every player got a little teary eyed. Rivalry on the pitch was fun and unencumbered by pressures of the outside world—it was where young men and women could bloody each other up, and Madam Pomfrey could patch them up after. This bit of earth and sky was a place they felt free, and now it is gone.

Before the outbreak of war, former Ravenclaw captain, Roger Davies, had been working for the Department of Magical Games and Sports in its logistics and construction division, planning the 1998 World Cup. With the future of the tournament uncertain, he decided to assume the role of project manager, rebuilding his old stomping grounds. A group of the burlier young men including Wood, McLaggen, and Flint are assigned to retrieve lumber from the Forbidden Forest. Harry takes the lead as he has a relationship with the centaurs. The magical creatures, no doubt, will be furious about the deforestation. Davies then puts together the best herbology alumni, Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot, with some of the best potions alumni, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, to sort out how to regrow the grass after fiendfyre reduced it to ashes and also to regrow all the trees they will be cutting down. Though Draco never mentions it to anyone, he hopes that Granger will be assisting with the potions team, but he finds out that her charms work is needed elsewhere. Everyone else receives their assignments for construction.

A large marquee is set up alongside the construction site that serves as office space, makeshift potions lab, and dining area. Loud popping from the apparition of house elves alerts the volunteers that it was time for lunch. Accompanying the elves are a few students, many of which are witches who want to get a good look at the quidditch players. Hermione Granger holds a basket full of pumpkin juice bottles. As she makes her way around distributing drinks, she runs into her old—well, she can’t say boyfriend as they never made it official or went public—‘fling' perhaps, Cormac McLaggen. Though she is now officially with Ron, she can’t help but notice the rugged stubble on his face or the fact he has grown in height and is a bit leaner since the end of their dalliance. The sweat dripping from the side of his neck and down his chest is clearly visible as the top buttons of his waffle knit henley are undone. She swallows hard and puts those thoughts in the back of her head as she approaches him.

“Pumpkin Juice?” she offers him, trying not to stare too hard into his hazel eyes. Hermione is still a bit guilty that she blindsided him with their breakup.

Cormac wipes his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and smiles at the girl in front of him. She is wearing an outfit that was a mix of city and country—she has on the knee-high brown boots but pairs them with trendy, hip-hugging jeans, a lace trimmed pink camisole, apparently no bra, and a floral button up blouse with rolled up sleeves. Her hair is braided in a crown exposing her neck. To Cormac, Hermione is “the one that got away.” He licks and bites a corner of his lip as the sight of her sends his stomach in knots. After devouring her with his eyes, he finally says, “Thanks, Granger. You look good.” Hermione can’t help but blush. He was always generous with compliments, “I haven’t said this to you yet, but I’m thankful you made it out of the war alive. I was worried when I saw you on the undesirable list—” he pauses knowing what the possible outcome could have been, “—I’m relieved. More than that; I’m happy to see you.” He takes the pumpkin juice out of her hand and then pulls her fingers to his lips.

Hermione looks around frantically making sure that Ron hasn’t seen what just happened. Thankfully he is looking over the plans for the stadium with Ginny, Harry, and Roger. Why does this boy—well now man—still make her heart pound so hard? She loves Ron, but there is something magnetic and animalistic about Cormac. It’s why it was so hard for her to resist him. Her gut tells her, _just keep it to small talk and don’t try to lead him on,_ “I’m glad to see you too. I heard that a few members of your family in the ministry didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” she swallows and thinks carefully of what to say next, “were you in hiding after graduation?”

“Yeah. My parents and I hid out at our ancestral home in Ayrshire—we didn’t go anywhere near our house in London,” he goes silent for a while trying to regain his composure. “We had a ton of wards up but kept our ears and eyes open for signs. After the ministry had fallen, we didn’t know who to trust.” Cormac is clearly having difficulty dealing with the effects of war including living in seclusion and 'safety.' That loneliness is tough to deal with; it almost destroyed the friendship between her, Ron, and Harry. Her hand makes its way up his arm in a reassuring manner; he can’t help but wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly. He then whispers in her ear, “I have to tell you something. I’ve missed you, but I get it. I like you way more than you liked me. I don’t want things to be weird or awkward between us. But know this—if I ever hear that Weasley isn’t treating you right or not giving you what you deserve, I would drop everything for you.”

War can completely change someone. Cormac was always honest, but he never revealed his vulnerability. If only he had shown this side back then—maybe things would have been different. The basket is getting heavy in her left hand, to the point where she almost drops it. She breaks their embrace, then gives the pumpkin juice a tap of her wand to make it lighten. Those eyes, not quite brown, not quite green, burn into her—before her thoughts wander, she says to him, “Cormac, you will always be special to me, and I don’t regret a single moment,” she places her free hand on his cheek and absent-mindedly scratches his scruff. She sighs and says, “but please don’t wait for me. You mustn’t sell yourself short. You also deserve so much more.” They share a smile as she squeezes his hand before walking away.   

Hermione walks over to the Herbology and Potions station and stops to chat with Neville and Hannah. There is something magical in the air, and it has nothing to do with the bubbling cauldrons. Hermione raises an eyebrow as she looks at her friend and wonders if this is a new development or something that had been going on for a while. Neville has never looked this relaxed around a girl—but maybe lopping the head of Voldemort’s giant snake gave him newfound gusto.

When Hermione hands a bottle to Theodore Nott, he politely nods in appreciation. His focus on figuring out his potion is much too intense to be more cordial. Though his father was a Death Eater, he managed to stay unaligned during the war and not take the Mark. The romance of following the Dark Lord had not appealed to him, and thankfully his father hadn’t pushed him on the path. Sadly, Theo’s apathy toward the cause still isn’t enough to prevent people consistently questioning his loyalties.

Malfoy is one of the few not under the shade of the white cloth tent. He crouches beside the burnt grass and is wearing very traditional field clothing: dark green herringbone tweed trousers, tall wellington boots, a green check shirt, and from a distance, it looked like a shooting waistcoat, but it has many pockets sewn in that held vials of potions. He finally figures out the right combination of potions and spells as Granger walks up to him.

“Thirsty, Malfoy?” She extends a bottle to him as he takes a knee to stand up. He no longer has the effort to sneer or show any disapproval—she on the other hand, still looks guarded. Just a few weeks ago, her pained face looked up at him pleading for help, yet he did nothing; it made him sick to his stomach. At one point, he looked forward to seeing her walk down the halls, but the past year, he hadn’t thought much about anything trivial like crushes or dating; he only focused on survival. Being a Death Eater didn’t guarantee anything, especially when the Dark Lord and his most faithful followers were living in your family home. It terrified him knowing they could easily eliminate his parents if he made the slightest slip-up.

“Thanks,” he replies taking the bottle, instantly popping it open and draining it.

“Oh, I brought something else,” she takes out a small jar and hands it to him, “It’s a protective salve for your skin. Um, so you don’t burn.”

 _This girl nearly dies in my house, by my aunt’s hands, and she still has enough goodness in her to care about my pasty complexion. How can anyone be that kind?_ “Oh. Yeah.” Draco is at a loss for words and is getting flustered. He wants to tell her so many things—he was sorry, he wanted to find a way to make amends and thank her and her friends for saving his life.

“You might want to put some on now. You’re already looking flushed,” Hermione has noticed his fair skin already turning pink.

He nods, and she turns to head back toward the rest of the volunteers. “Granger. Wait—” he manages to choke out. As she twists around, it causes the stretchy material of the camisole to bunch up and reveal her abdomen. He catches a glimpse of her midriff, and Draco’s thoughts escape him. All he can say is, “thanks, again.”

Hermione manages a genuine smile then tugs her shirt back down. For the first time, in a long time, old memories of her find the way back into his brain. Almost a year and a half had passed since that moment in the Room of Requirement. With everything that has happened, he knows that there is even less of a chance he will ever be with her now.

Before Draco goes into the full spiral of self-loathing, a raven-haired beauty with soft waves wearing a floral sundress, ivory belted cardigan, and green wellies, walks up to him. She is a few inches shorter than him and has to look up; she also has gray eyes, but hers have copper flecks and the longest black lashes which accentuate her perfectly arched eyebrows. Her full lips and olive skin are indicative of her half-Greek heritage. Something is stirring inside of him as he’s never seen her this way before. 

Her lightly glossed lips part and ask him, “Turkey?” as she holds out the sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

His fingers brush hers as he accepts the offer and replies, “Thanks, Astoria.”

 

—xoxox—

 

Ron stands behind Hermione and has his arms wrapped around her waist with his chin on her shoulder. This is what the war was worth fighting for—his girl in his arms and his sister and best friend at his side. “Mione, are you going to stay and have lunch with us out here?”

“I would love to,” Hermione says, also enjoying being held by her boyfriend, “but I promised a few of the other muggle-borns and half-bloods I would have lunch with them and the professors up in the castle. We’re all behind a year in our schooling and need to figure out how to catch everyone up. It’s a big mess. Not everyone is content with just their O.W.L.s or received acceptance into the auror program without all the necessary credentials. Ahem.”

Harry and Ron look at each other smugly. Harry speaks up, “Hey, you would hope that destroying horcruxes and Voldemort would give you a free pass somewhere. Don’t look at me with those judging eyes.”  

Hermione rolls her eyes at Harry’s flippant comment, “Well, Harry, I think you should come with me. You could provide valuable insight as another half-blood raised by muggles. Also, we’ll be having a full meal and not just sandwiches.”

A smile creeps across his face. He could never pass up a meal in the great hall, “Alright. I’ll join you.”

“What about me?” Ron interjects, “Why not bless everyone with the ‘Golden Trio?’”

They laugh at the ridiculous name the papers had given them.

“Sorry, Ron. You’re needed here,” Ginny speaks up, “we need more Gryffindor bodies to make sure that we are properly represented with the building of this pitch.”

“Okay fine. See you later?” Ron asks Hermione.

“Of course,” Hermione gives Ron a kiss while Harry does the same to Ginny.

Harry points his wand and silently summons two brooms. He hands one to Hermione, but she declines the offer. “No, thank you. I’ll apparate. Winky?”

The house elf makes her way over and sees Hermione extending her hand, “Where to Miss Granger?”

“Great Hall, please. See you there, Harry,” She and the little elf disapparate in the blink of an eye.  

 

—xoxox—

 

The Great Hall had been completely repaired and looked as though nothing had happened, when in fact, this was the location of the final duel. At the table, roughly fifteen people are sitting, chatting, and waiting for Hermione. The group includes Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dennis Creevey, Dean Thomas, The Patil Twins, Michael Corner, a few of the younger students Hermione and Harry don’t recognize, and Headmistress McGonagall. Harry sits next to Dean, and Hermione takes a seat between Justin and Dennis.

The younger Creevey is still mourning the loss of his elder brother. 

_Harry, Hermione, and Ron had personally brought Colin’s body back to his parents after the battle. Mr. and Mrs. Creevey were told their son died heroically and would be remembered for his bravery—but it was Dennis who figured out how to immortalize his brother. He came down with boxes and boxes of photographs and film negatives and presented them to the elder Gryffindors and suggested that during the reconstruction, they should dedicate a wing of the castle to the Colin Creevey Memorial Gallery. When the trio had opened the box, they were astounded at Colin’s skill. Once the annoying first year who had taken photographs at the most inopportune times, he became a prolific photojournalist. He told so many stories with his pictures, but the ones that spoke the loudest were the ones that didn’t move. Hermione had found a photograph of herself in the library with the sun casting the most beautiful light through her curls while she nervously chewed on the end of a quill. The image of Ron strutting confidently, after he had imagined drinking Felix Felicis was humorous. Out of this archive, none of the pictures made Harry smile more than the one of his and Ginny’s first kiss. She had jumped in his arms and almost knocked him backward. Her wild red hair whipped in all directions. As Hermione was flipping through, she found a photo of Draco surrounded by darkness and all you could see was the silhouette of his face and hair—but it was his piercing eyes that she found pained and hypnotic. He looked so desperate and alone; Hermione realized this image was most likely taken during sixth year when Voldemort had given him that impossible task. Colin had captured their adolescence without them even knowing._

Hermione ruffles Dennis’s hair and says to him, “How is the gallery coming along?”

“It’s looking pretty good — it’s just so much to go through,” Dennis sounds a bit overwhelmed as he replies to Hermione, “When I look at the images, I can feel Colin with me. Some of my favorites, I’ve used engorgement charms to enlarge, but it’s difficult picking the best frame. I’m kind of thinking of not using any frames and it looking more like a muggle modern art gallery. The photos are just so—so—you know? And I think frames take away from it. You know what I mean?”

“I think frameless would be beautiful if you end up doing a print on canvas, so it doesn’t look so flat,” Hermione tells her fellow muggle-born, “I went to a photography exhibit with my parents a few years back, and that’s how they did it. It was clean, uncluttered, and most definitely let the photography do all the talking.”

“Oh that’s a brilliant idea, Hermione!” he says enthusiastically, “To be honest, I’ll be sad when the project is complete.”

She squeezes his arm and gently says, “When you miss him, you can just walk down to his gallery.”

Dennis appreciates Hermione’s kindness and encouragement. It somehow reassures him that one member of the “Golden Trio” was a muggle-born. He has faith that the respect the Wizarding community has for her will make the notion of blood status a thing of the past.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Professor McGonagall asks of the small group. “I must say, that I am so happy to see every single person at this table. Over the past year, many of you were on the run or in hiding or had retreated to your muggle lives and hid your wands. Though you are a small selection of students that had missed out on school this year, you are not the only ones. Now we must decide what we should do.

“First up. N.E.W.T.s. Now I would be disappointed if every seventh year from this past year decides to forgo taking the examinations or decides to repeat the year completely. Yes, the Carrows were awful human beings and Professor Snape was—being Professor Snape—” she holds her tongue as what his role was during the war was still up for debate, “—but the rest of the professors, including myself, worked tirelessly to protect you and make sure you still had a proper education. My proposal is to have all the previous seventh years come back to Hogwarts two weeks before the start of term for review with examinations on the first of September. All testing would be complete by the time the Hogwarts Express arrives, and we would all be able to enjoy the feast together. Afterward, the graduates will take the boats back across the lake and then your final trip home. What say you, Misses Patil? Mr. Finch-Fletchley?”

The twins say in unison, “Brilliant.”

Harry and Hermione look at each other in a puzzled manner not quite understanding how Justin was able to attend school last year as he is a muggle-born.

“I think that would do. It doesn’t appear to conflict with the start of term at Eton,” he replies in his incredibly posh accent.

“Eton?” Hermione speaks up, “What do you mean Eton? And how were you able to attend Hogwarts last year?”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrow arches and a sly smile creeps across her face. This is one of her favorite stories of her students sticking it to the Death Eaters. Harry and Hermione look at their former head of house questioningly as Justin begins, “Well it’s a funny story, really. Let’s start in second year. After being petrified, I already had a feeling that things might not be as easy for muggle-borns as I hoped, so I made two plans. One involved me getting my muggle education in addition to my magical schooling as a backup. The second involved me doing research into my family history.”

“When did you have time to get your muggle education?” Hermione is shocked and genuinely intrigued.

“During the summer hols. I didn’t do much else. My mother and father were quite pleased, you see. As much as they found it novel that their child went to a magical school, a proper, English education that befitted the son of a Lord was indeed necessary.”

Now Harry’s interested where this story is going, “Lord? Justin, I knew you were posh, but I didn’t know you were _posh_.”

He laughs at Harry’s comment and continues the story, “Well, I was right pleased that no one at Hogwarts knew about my family and title. I truly wanted to make a name for myself without the recognition of my family. Well, I continued both magical and muggle education the entire time I was at Hogwarts.

“At the beginning of this school year, as they were making the undesirable lists with all the muggle-borns, my name came up. A few years ago, I had found a book called “Wizarding Nobility,” it was about wizarding families who were presented at court. There were a few recognizable names such as Malfoy, Carrow, and Yaxley. Despite all their pureblood leanings, these families had no problems with muggles as long as they were part of the gentry. I had compared entries in “Wizarding Nobility” to my own lineage and found a common name — Alastair Heneage Finch. This ancestor was born over six generations ago, but he was a wizard.”

Justin looks around, and all eyes are on him, the story is compelling, and they are waiting for what comes next, “Instead of running, I turned myself into the Ministry on a gamble. I had the book, a wizarding ancestor, and a title. When they called my name, I pointed at the listing and said, ‘You have my title wrong. It’s The Honourable Justin Finch-Fletchley. If you are to list me on a legal document, please use my correct title.’ It rattled them a bit then I said, ‘My father is a real Lord, not self-proclaimed. I have proof of noble and magical blood. If you would be so kind to remove me from this list, I’ll be on my way.’ I was terrified. Not sure if the gamble would pay off, but it did. One of the things that Ministry folks understand most is self-importance and aristocracy. As long as I acted the part, they didn’t question it. When I left the Ministry, I owled Professors Sprout and McGonagall to let them know I did it, went home, and got pissed drunk. I couldn’t believe I pulled it off.”

The professor is clapping her hands excitedly and reminds Justin about a part of the story he left you, “Mr. Finch-Fletchley, do tell everyone what you made all the professors call you!”

He laughs, “It was so ostentatious! But I had Professor Snape and the Carrows change all of the school documents to read with my full title and told them to call me Young Lord Finch-Fletchley, even though it’s not even a proper title. You don’t receive the title of Lord until you inherit, but they didn’t know that. Their families had been removed from muggle society for so long, and they just agreed as not to look foolish that they lacked knowledge of proper etiquette.”        

The table is thoroughly impressed, and Dean Thomas initiates a slow clap and says, “Justin, that’s incredible. You have massive balls—”

“Mr. Thomas!” Dean laughs at being scolded by his professor.

“Sorry, ma’am. I was just trying to say that Justin personified all the Houses. He didn’t limit himself, and I find it admirable,” Dean leans back and nods in appreciation.

“Thanks, Dean, but I do have a little bit of a predicament and could use some magical assistance. Now, Eton offers sixth form entry, which means I could have entered when I was sixteen. But as I was at Hogwarts, I couldn’t very well attend two boarding schools at the same time.” Justin goes on to explain, “I already took my GCSEs around the time I took my OWLs and received good marks. Normally, with my family and the test results, that should be enough to get me in, but I will need some assistance forging some paperwork so that it looks like I’m only sixteen and modifying memories of the admissions staff to ensure I receive my acceptance. My family has some pull at the school, but memory charms sound like so much more fun.”

Pavarti Patil speaks up, “So, you’ll be a member of Prince William’s graduating class?”

Everyone chuckles, and answers, “Yes. That is true. I will be going to school with the future king.”

The gaggle of young women all offer to help Justin on his mission, but Hermione interrupts, “Justin, what do you plan on doing when you finish up at Eton?”

“Well, I already have magical law correspondence courses lined up for me to work on whilst at Eton. I’ll be training in magical law and hope to get into Cambridge and study muggle law,” he pauses as his tone becomes more serious. “I never want another muggle-born or half-blood ever to feel like they don’t have anyone looking out for them. If I practice both muggle and magical law, do you realize how much good I could do? I love my family, and I don’t think I could ever live completely in the magical world, but also know I couldn’t live entirely in the muggle world. They’re two sides of the same coin. I just want to help people in the best way I can.”

The table erupts into thunderous applause, and even Professor McGonagall sheds a few tears. But Hermione looks sad and defeated.

“Hermione, did I say something wrong?” Justin asks.

“Don’t worry about her,” Harry interjects, “she’s just upset that she didn’t think of your idea first.”

“I know! Why didn’t I think of that? Magical and Muggle education! I could have gone to Cambridge also or Oxford!” She looks defeated, but it is quite comical then grumbles, “stupid time-turner. Wish I still had it.”

Professor McGonagall speaks up once again and asks, “So who would like to go on a little field trip to assist Mr.— rather, Young Lord Finch-Fletchley?” She lets out a little giggle, and they all look at each other wondering if they would like to volunteer. The group unanimously raises their hands. “Very well. We will further discuss the plan of action after we finish up our plans for the school year.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Thomas, and Miss Granger. You are some of the students who had missed the year entirely. What are your plans?”

Harry nervously scratches his head as he doesn’t want to break the news to his favorite professor, “Well, um, I wasn’t planning on finishing my seventh year as I already received my acceptance into the auror program.”

Her jovial demeanor changes abruptly. The elder witch’s face scrunches up, and her lips purse tightly. She says very disapprovingly, “very well.”

“—but can I take the correspondence courses? I can come back on the weekends to study and on exam days,” Harry couldn’t stand disappointing the woman who had been so loyal and protective of him.

“I think that is a brilliant idea, Mr. Potter. I’m sure your friends including Miss Weasley, would enjoy your visits immensely,” Professor McGonagall says in a slightly suggestive tone.

“Oh yeah. I’ll still get to see Ginny. Nice.” Harry realizes the extra studying won’t be that bad of an idea.   

“Professor, I think I would also like to attend school part-time, as well,” Dean speaks up. He had spent most of the year also on the run. He eventually caught up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at Malfoy Manor and made the narrow escape. The transition back into wizarding life was not as easy as he had hoped, “I would like to spend time with my family and the independent study might be a better fit for me.”

“Noted. Thank you, Mr. Thomas,” The professor says as she jots down the details.

“Well, I want to experience a proper, normal school year, Professor.” Hermione states, “I would like to take the full year—even if it means I will be almost twenty when I graduate.

“Are you sure, Miss Granger?” The Professor is surprised Hermione would choose this route, “Even before your year-long absence, you were much further along than many of your peers. You could easily test out of many of the courses and go straight to taking your N.E.W.T.s. in September.”

Harry is also concerned about Hermione’s decision, “But Hermione. Your parents. Aren’t we—”

“Next summer, Harry. I just need this—for myself,” she doesn’t need to say more. Harry already understands, and so does the professor.

“So we have figured things out for our seventh years. Now for our younger students,” the Professor looks around at them, “I propose all students will begin the school year at the level they would have attended but will have the opportunity to accelerate their studies if they so chose. It would be the fairest wouldn’t you agree?”

With the murmuring filling the halls, students discuss the possible outcomes and eventually nod in agreement. Pleased with the results, the professor says to them, “Excellent. I will share this with the board of governors, and we will send out all the information with your letters. Children—well, some of you are young men and women now aren’t you? I am so, so proud of you —” the professor pauses as though she has more to say but glances at each of her students. With just a look, Professor McGonagall could say everything she needed to.

Harry, who sits in proximity to her, leaves his seat and puts his hands on her shoulders and says, “we know.”


	9. Turning Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione deals with what the end of her marriage will entail. No Draco this chapter. He’s taking a much-deserved rest.
> 
> Beta: Mama2HPBabies
> 
> WARNING: Very emotional, real drama this chapter. I suggest if you are going through a tumultuous divorce or breakup and can't handle that kind of subject matter right now, feel free to skip this chapter and jump to the next one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was emotionally draining to write.

 

## March 2030

Back to reality. Last night's events feel like a dream. A very, very naughty dream; like some teenage fantasy that was finally fulfilled. Hermione flops on the bed in her study and begins dialing Justin’s number. Sleep feels so needed right now, but getting things over with takes priority.

“Good morning, Minister. Yes, I got your text.”

 “Hi, Justin." He said 'Minister' in such a ridiculous sing-song way she knows it was meant to be playful. "So you see that I am ready to move forward. What are the next steps?”

“You’ll need to come in so I can assess all your assets, then there are two more rounds of forms applications. If you can convince Ron to go with you, we can get the second set of documents started. I can meet in about 30 minutes. Do you think you can pop over by then?”

“Can you make it 45? I’m still recovering from Rose’s engagement party and had a bit of sleepy start.”

“Of course. It was a fantastic party. See you then.”

It's time; she keeps reminding herself. The lump growing in her throat is so hard to swallow. It might be best to straighten herself out a bit before heading out and finally confronting Ron. She splashes some water on her face and brushes her teeth. She is a bit of a mess and then realizes her child saw her in this state. Her hair is atrocious and would be a dead giveaway. She twists it up into a bun then closes her dressing gown tight. There are a few strands of platinum hair that are incredibly visible against the black silk, so she makes sure to brush them off. She looks for her attaché, but it is nowhere in sight, so she just grabs the folder, her wand, and mobile. The door loudly creaks as she opens it, alerting anyone in the house that she is emerging from the study. As she walks down the hall, Ron sees her and makes his way to meet her. His face looks full of uncertainty, as it should.

“Hey, there is a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean those things I said.” He looks her up and down, and she has a sinking feeling that he's suspicious. Hermione is no longer mad at him but is eager to move on.  She takes a deep breath to find her courage and presents the folder to him.

“Ron, this isn't working anymore. We have tried and tried. I will always love you, but last night was the final straw. You said things that confirmed things were over for us and I'm tired of working on making this marriage work. I have already filed for divorce and am meeting Justin in about 45 minutes.” She is trying to stay strong, but her voice is shaking. Even with her resentment and disappointment, a part of her still cared deeply and could not stand hurting him. She's afraid another panic attack will come on, and it will be so much harder to deal without Draco.

Ron looks down at the folder in his hand and tightens his grip. “I know, Hermione. I know you filed for this months ago. When you didn't give it to me right away, I thought you had changed your mind.”

“How did you know?”

“Ginny told me—well, not directly. She said, ‘don’t be surprised if Hermione wakes up one day and is tired of your bullshit.’ Also, one of Justin’s aides let something slip when I was at the Leaky Cauldron visiting Neville and Hannah.” He hands the folder back to her, “So I read up on divorce proceedings. I know you need me to sign more documents. I'll go with you.”

“Ron, are you sure? We don't have to be there at the same time.” To be honest, she’s a bit worried about being in the same room with him. When his repressed emotions finally surface, it is never pretty. He has never been violent with her, but he can become very vocal.

It looks as though he catches a whiff of something and his face sours.

“Let’s not drag this out any longer than it has to be,” he says in such an apathetic way that it unnerves her.

Curtly she says, “Fine. I’ll take a shower and then meet you in the foyer.”

“Please do. You smell of betrayal and old money.” There is a rage in his voice, and she realizes that somehow he has figured out where she was.

 

—xoxox—

Hermione and Ron sit in Justin’s office as far away from each other as possible. The tension is growing thick, and the pair refuse to make eye contact. On the wall were Justin's framed degrees from Hogwarts, Eton, and Cambridge among other awards and accolades.

Seeing the proof of Justin's groundbreaking successes in front of her reminded Hermione of the path that had led him there and her role in it. Upon his graduation from law school, Hermione used her influence in the Ministry to help Justin open his practice. Having both a magical and muggle education was one of the most ambitious endeavors any wizard had attempted. Justin’s success set a precedent for Hermione's Cross-Economic Initiative which eventually paved the way in founding The Department of Magical and Muggle Business Affairs.

Of course, there was opposition from some of the elder members of the ministry. Many feared that this would threaten exposure. The Statute of Secrecy had prevented muggles from knowing about their world, but in the same right, had alienated many muggle-borns and half-bloods from their families. Hermione and Justin proved that you can live in both worlds and still uphold the statutes. Not surprisingly, some of the earliest supporters of this scheme were muggle-borns, half-bloods, and those who married muggles. It took the purebloods some convincing, once they realized how profitable this program could be, they quickly changed their minds.

The Ministry had not seen something like this initiative. What started out as helping one friend getting into university, created a department that helps put others on a similar track that Justin took. The DMMBA has several facets to its operation. Firstly, the placement agency assists anyone in the magical community wanting muggle certifications or training to expand their clientele. Secondly, the department also aids in maintaining the Statute of Secrecy by not only using memory charms but educating muggle family members and binding them to secrecy. Lastly, it assists in registration, financing, and establishing the businesses.

New businesses ranging from real estate agents to interior and fashion designers to import-export to healthcare to culinary and more could benefit from the new agency, but there were hiccups. When the program began, financing for business owners who did not come from money was quite difficult. Gringotts wouldn’t take a chance on entrepreneurs that had no collateral, and muggle banks were out of the question. Private financiers were needed. Hermione, along with the friends and family she begged and pleaded with, invested in the start-ups. After a short while, the investments paid off—and all the investors were rewarded handsomely for their gamble.  

When she ran for Minister, Justin did not forget what Hermione did for him and others like him and was second to endorse her. Harry was the first, of course. Over the years, their friendship grew, and he became one of her most trusted advisors.

Justin looks up from the paperwork, “It appears as though we have most things in order, but there are a few details we need to go over and assets to divvy up.”

In unison, Ron and Hermione say, “fine.”

“The prenup specifies that Hermione can receive a one-time payout or shares of the company. Currently, the shares would be more.”

“I’ll take the payout. It will be less messy in the long run.” Hermione says, still refusing to look at Ron. The guilt is beginning to eat at her, and she still can't figure out how he knew.

“There is a matter of the royalties for Hermione’s book sales and speaking engagements.”

“She can keep it. Especially now that her payout isn’t as much.” Ron scoffs.

“Also it looks as though you made the investments separately,” Justin looks up from the paperwork and could almost see the tension, “so do we want to keep it separate or combine and separate evenly.”

“Separate, in our own names, is perfectly fine,” Hermione says curtly. She is now glad she had made many investments without Ron’s approval.  

“Lastly. You own two homes. The Summer House and the home Hermione is set to inherit from her parents.”

“I’ll take the Summer House,” Ron says curtly. “I suspect you’ll be moving into Malfoy Manor after you step down from being Minister.”

“Ronald! That is not fair.” Hermione has her defenses up. 

“Let's just get this over with. The sooner we’re divorced, the sooner you can be with _him_. Don't worry. I'm not going to let this affect the prenup.” Ron is now seething.

“Sorry. What? Hermione? Are you having an affair with Draco Malfoy?” Justin drops his guard from being her lawyer to being her friend.

“We weren’t having an affair before last night. It just happened—after I sent you the text.” She tells Justin directly.

“Of course!” Ron sarcastically exclaims. “So brilliant you are, Hermione Granger. Covering your arse before committing adultery.”

“Justin, don’t mind him. He only knows how to express his emotions two ways: cracking a joke or raging jealousy. Sometimes it's a combination of both.” Justin is starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with the situation. He’s had battles in his office before, but never from a close friend or someone of her position of power.

“Sometimes, your intelligence makes you so arrogant, Hermione. When you came home this morning, did you think I wouldn't notice you had a love bite on your collarbone? I’ve seen the signs for years. The way you look at each other and all your inside jokes—” Ron shakes his head at Hermione’s look of shock, “I know you must have run off with him in the middle of the party—I didn't see you for almost an hour. You must think I'm thick. Justin, just give me the damn paper to sign.” His words are truthful and full of pain. She knows she has hurt him deeply, but it doesn’t prevent her from firing back.

“Don't make this about him. You and I had problems long before last night. How many times do I need to enumerate? We went to counseling for TEN years! We tried everything. I am not the same person I was when we married, and you hate so many things about me. That is what you said. You HATE our marriage. I had no choice but to finally file for divorce.” She tries to keep Draco out of this. “Ron. I tried to make this work for a long time. You know I did.”

“Yeah, sure you did,” he says dryly under his breath.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah, ten years of counseling. Okay, so I don’t satisfy your needs. I don't know. Maybe because I wanted all of you, not just part of you. In our home, you wanted me, but out in the world,” he huffs, “you are happy to chat up every man not knowing the effect you have on everyone. So clueless.”

As Ron’s temper rises, she has no idea what he is referring to and becomes scared. He continues his tirade, “I've always known I would never be enough for you. I thought being an auror would have made me into the man you wanted. When I decided to join George, maybe being financially secure would be what you needed. Then we made those investments, and we are almost as rich as Malfoy. Good father? Did that. What didn't I do?” His voice has gradually crescendoed while aggressively pointing at his chest after each statement.

She will not be intimidated by him no matter how much he screams. Hermione takes the opposite approach and keeps her voice steady and words concise. “What didn't you do? You never changed! You kept thinking we could be the same people we were when we were teenagers! War heroes! Guess what? I moved on, grew up, and adapted. Also, this marriage is passionless. The only passion you ever show is jealousy. And so much of that jealousy is so completely unfounded! You never had a reason to be jealous, because I never wanted to leave. Your jealousy and neglect finally pushed me away.”

Justin can’t take the bickering anymore and slams his hands down on his desk, “Enough! I’m going to break attorney-client protocol and speak as a friend. Hermione, I am so grateful for our friendship and your support. If it weren’t for you, I would not be where I am today. You have never disappointed me and have always been true to your word.” Although moved by Justin's words, Hermione tries to appear stoic. “Ron, you’re a good chap. You love your family and friends more than anything. But even I have been on the receiving end of one of your jealous fits of rage in the past, and I’m gay with a partner of twenty years. I’m not supposed to take sides, but if I have to, I will, especially if I am worried about the safety of my client or myself in _my_ office." He begins to compose himself, "Right now, from a legal standpoint, you are both in agreement with the division of assets, and both want to move forward with the paperwork. Once you both sign on the line, you have six weeks then we can apply for the decree absolute, and this is over. My suggestion to you is to continue your counseling and work on closure.” He pushes the decree nisi in front of them to sign.

They both sign so vigorously, they could have put a hole in the paper. The now estranged couple are starting to calm down. Justin has always been very cool, calm, and collected. To see him raise his voice like that was startling.

“Thank you,” Justin says to the both of them. “I will file these and see if there is any way I can expedite this considering how long ago the petition was originally filed. Now with this being such a high profile case, do you have a plan?” He’s obviously speaking to Hermione directly.

“Rosie is already in talks with Rita. We are letting her break the story of me stepping down from Minister in exchange for holding the divorce story. Speaking of which, we should probably have lunch tomorrow.”

A smile creeps across his face, and Ron is not quite sure what is going on, “Sounds good. I’ll tell Jeremy.”

Hermione continues, “We also are letting her be a guest at the wedding and have exclusive coverage and proprietary photography.” She and Justin have switched back into Minister and Lawyer mode.

“Do you need me to draft up the Non-Disclosure Agreements?” He asks her.

“Could you, please? I forgot to tell Rose about needing them.” Hermione hates forgetting details.

“Fantastic. Our daughter knows and is helping you with your dirty work. Who else knows?” Ron asks her.

“Scorpius, but I planned on inviting Hugo, Harry, and Ginny around for dinner tonight to tell them.” She suddenly realizes she should not have said Scorpius’s name.

“Scorpius knows that his future in-laws are getting divorced and that his father shagged his mother-in-law-to-be? How did that happen? Let me guess. They caught you and are somehow okay with this?”

“That’s exactly how it happened, and Rose said she wasn’t even surprised or upset—she was more surprised we stayed married so long.” She knew she said the one thing that would completely deflate him. Rose was “Daddy’s Girl” and the light of his life. She had played Quidditch, loved his jokes, and always wanted to spend her free time with him. As Rose grew older, she traded broomsticks for boys, jokes for conversation, and daddy time for mother-daughter bonding. At a very young age, she knew she wasn’t going to run a family business like her father or be a Quidditch player like her aunt. The Ministry was always going to be her path. She wanted to be just like her mother — a passionate, ambitious, and determined woman. He saw his little girl slip away, just as his wife slips away now.

The air in the room suddenly became cold, and the tension quickly subsided—you would have thought a dementor had come and gone. Justin took this as his sign to wrap things up. “Hermione, I’ll get those NDA’s sent to your office by tomorrow morning. Jeremy’s cross that we missed Sunday brunch, so I promised I'd meet him for a late lunch.”

“Thank you so much for taking the time for us on a Sunday, Justin.” She gives him a tight hug, and he returns it. They can tell how much she needs it.

He extends his hand, “Ron.”

“Justin,” a single firm shake is returned. Ron doesn’t like feeling like he’s in a situation where everyone and everything is against him. Though Justin maintains his professionalism, favoritism is something that has never sat well with Ron. He inherited that chip on his shoulder from his father. Although the Ministry is no longer what it was, Hermione was still part of the system that played by a set of unspoken rules.

“I’ll see you in six weeks and please keep up the counseling or at least have an exit interview of sorts.”

“We will,” Hermione says back to him.

“Maybe,” a very defeated Ron says.

They leave the office, and Hermione speaks first. “Thank you. I'm sorry things got so heated back there.”

“Yeah, well. We’re not divorced yet. And we still need to break it to the family. What do you want to do for dinner? Traditional Sunday roast or Italian?” The rage has subsided, but it seems as though Ron is looking for a distraction.

“Whichever is easier.” He is the cook in the family, and quite good at it. Hermione became very self-conscious about her cooking abilities after their hunt for Horcruxes. Ron's constant criticisms about her food turned her off from cooking altogether. “Ron, could you please not tell the whole family until it's final? We have to tell Harry and Ginny, but everyone else can wait.”

"Yeah. That's probably smart. I'll pick up the groceries if you pick-up the wine and invite them to dinner."

"I can do that." He pauses and wonders if she should even bother saying what is on her mind, but her mouth just starts moving. "Justin is right. We should have some resolution. Just because our marriage is ending, doesn't mean we will ever be out of each other's lives. Part of me will always love you and what we shared. But we've both known for a long time —"

He cuts her off, "Not now, Hermione. Let's do this later. I need to get started on dinner." He has never been the greatest at expressing his emotions, and when he does, it has been on his terms; Hermione should have known better than to push.

"Oh. Alright. I'll see you at home." That word now feels strange to her.

"Yeah." He then disappears out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very tough chapter to write. I really don’t want one person to seem like the bad guy more than the other. Marriages fall apart for different reasons. While their actions and the things they said were harsh and cruel at times, they felt betrayed and also are having a tough time accepting it.


	10. Everything You’ve Come To Expect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reaches out to her family about her pending divorce.
> 
> !!WARNING: Very emotional, real drama this chapter. Read up until the start of the dinner party and then skip to the next chapter!!

 

## March 2030

 

Hermione decides to go for a walk and make all her calls. The crisp spring air fills her lungs and allows her to clear her head. She can now see why Justin's partner would be upset about missing brunch. The weather is perfect for dining al fresco. The first person she needs to get in contact with is her assistant. She doesn't want to interrupt her day off, so she just sends her a text.

 

_Hermione Granger: Hello, Allie. Please, cancel all my meetings for tomorrow except for my usual 5:00 pm debriefing with Harry. Expect calls from Rita Skeeter and Draco Malfoy and squeeze them into the schedule. Rita before lunch and Draco around mid-afternoon._

_Allie Traynor: Yes, Minister. See you tomorrow._

_Hermione Granger: Thank you._

 

Rose must be dying for a follow-up. Hermione's thumb scrolls through her favorites list and finds her contact.

"Hey, Mum. How did it go?" her daughter answers the phone only after a single ring.

"Rough. Your dad is furious with me and somehow knew where I was last night. I don't know how, but I have a sinking feeling that he has had my study tapped with extendable ears or some other kind of surveillance equipment. He said he saw Draco and I sneaking off last night, but I don't know." She still finds it hard to believe that he could put the puzzle together on his own.

"I wouldn't put surveillance past Dad. I discovered all kinds of things like that in my room when he first found out about Scorpius. He even had Lily sneak things into my dorm room at school. He's always suspicious."

"I'll let it go for now and will look later. But we'll be having dinner at seven tonight. Don't bring Scorpius. I'm afraid your father will attack him for no good reason other than he is a Malfoy," Hermione says with a tone of disappointment. Hers and Draco's actions are already affecting the family.

Rose pauses and sighs. "So it's really that bad, huh?"

"Yes, and the fact that you knew about the divorce, Draco, and that you're helping me just about knocked the wind out of him," regret of getting her daughter and future-son-in-law starts sinking in. "Don't be surprised if he thinks you are taking my side—which I know you're not. You are helping your parents through a difficult transition, but you know he won't see it that way."

Sarcastically, Rose replies, "He never does. Why does he always think people are siding against him?"

"I've been asking myself that question for almost forty years." Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose, recalling another moment Ron was hard-headed and judgmental. "Just ask Uncle Harry about The Goblet of Fire. Your father is such a stubborn arse sometimes."

"Sometimes?" she laughs. "Come on, Mum. Oh, and Rita is interested. When do you want to meet her?"

Pleased Rose already made progress she replies, "Tell her to call my assistant first thing in the morning. I already have time blocked out for her."

"Sounds good. I'll let her know. Okay, Mum, but I have to go. Titus needs to go out. Don't you, puppy?"

"I'll see you tonight at seven. Love you."

"Love you, too." She hangs up with her daughter and starts dialing her son. Hopefully, he picks up. Hugo moved out a few months ago—as promised—when he finished his residency. After being promoted to an attending healer, the hours grew more grueling. The ringing has been going on for a while, and she thinks it is about to go to voicemail when he finally picks up.

"Mum. Sorry, can't talk long. What's up?" his speech clipped.

"Can you make it to dinner at seven?"

Sounding unsure, he responds, "I'll be a bit late. My rounds end at that time."

"That's fine. Just please be there. We have a very important family matter to discuss." She lays on the mothering guilt trip.

"You're finally getting divorced?" he asks bluntly.

"Did Rose tell you?"

"Yes. Seriously, I’m still upset you waited this long," he says rather snarkily.

"Watch your tone, Hugo," she says in a tone she used with him when he was much younger. 

He laughs at the scolding, "I'll see you tonight, Mum. Love you. I have to go."

"Goodbye, Sweetheart. Love you."

Now it's time for her to make her last call—Harry and Ginny. She dials Ginny’s number and waits patiently.

Ginny picks up and greets Hermione, “Hey! What’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you and Ron all morning to see if you wanted to meet up for brunch.”

Hermione doesn’t waste any time getting to the point, “I signed them, Gin. We had a huge fight last night and I signed them.”

“Wow. Okay,” Ginny takes a moment to switch gears, “So are you okay? What happened?”

“Well, he said he hates all of my friends, the fact I’m no longer the person I was when I was nineteen, and our marriage,” Hermione swallows hard and continues, “he made the final blow—we’re done. We just left Justin’s office and signed the second round of forms. We should be officially divorced in about a month and a half.”

“Wow. Are you okay?” her sister-in-law asks.

“I will be, but is it okay if I steal my best friend for a few hours?” This is definitely one of those occasions Hermione needs one-on-one time with Harry.   

“Of course. Want to talk to him now?” Ginny has never been jealous of Hermione and Harry’s relationship—she knows a brother/sister relationship when she sees one. Also the fact that Hermione was their behind the scenes matchmaker made things quite obvious that the best friends would never be anything more than that.

“Yes, please?” Hermione is chomping at the bit and has to talk to Harry.

"Yeeess," He draws out the word as if he's already expecting Hermione to ask him for a favor.

"Hey Harry, how are you feeling? How was Quidditch?" she starts with a bit of small talk before dropping the bomb.

"If you mean to ask, did I pull any muscles? No. In fact, I beat James to the snitch. Ginny and Rose seemed a bit miffed they were wearing gowns and couldn't play." She chuckles shakes her head at the thought of all of them playing, highly intoxicated, while in dress robes. Why didn't she go out to at least see it for herself?

"Do you and Ginny have any dinner plans because we would like you over for a family dinner?"

"Huh? Family dinner the day after a huge family event? Who is going to be there?"

"Just Ron, Rose, Hugo, hopefully, you and Ginny, and me."

"No Scorpius or my kids?"

"No."

He sighs, "So you're finally moving forward with the divorce?"

She sighs, knowing she can't hide anything from him. "Yes. I just told Ginny that Ron and I went to Justin’s office to fill out additional paperwork," her voice quavers revealing all this to Harry, “I noticed that neither you or Ginny were surprised.”  

"No Hermione. As someone who has been your referee for four decades, I am especially not surprised—I mean—my wife went with you to meet with a divorce lawyer,” Harry sighs already being able to predict his brother-in-law’s reaction, “Let me guess; Ron is the only one upset and feels blindsided?"

"Yes."

"So did he spin off the rails about you dancing with Draco last night?"

"Well—" She hesitates whether or not she needs to go further with this.

"Hermione Jean Granger. What did you do?"

"Harry, meet me for drinks. I can't do this over the phone with you. Meet me at The Dispensary at the corner of Leman and Alie. I'll be there soon." 

"I'll meet you in a moment. "

"Okay. See you soon." She walks toward the restaurant and sees Harry coming from an alley. When she finally reaches him, she throws her arms around him and gives him a huge hug. Hermione has experienced so many emotions over the past 24 hours, that when she finally has a moment with Harry it's a reminder that he will always be her constant.

"Hey. It's okay," he is just holding her and rubbing her back. "Come on. Let's get a drink or two and maybe some food. You can tell me all about it."

They tell their waitress they'll have gin and tonics. It still seems a bit early in the day for a beer or whisky, and they had more than their fair share of champagne last night. They look down at the menu and proceed to order Potted Duck Confit with Toast, Date and Fig Chutney, Smoked Salmon Fishcake with Wilted Spinach, Hollandaise Sauce, Poached Hens Egg, and Truffle and Parmesan Hand Cut Chips. It's a fair amount of food, but they intend on sharing the meal. Harry has already eaten but couldn't pass up these dishes.

"Of course you pick a posh pub. Definitely the kind of place Albus would like," Harry says to Hermione, "but I have to say, the menu looks impressive. Alright. Spit it out."

She drains her gin and tonic and tells Harry everything. She describes what happened in the library and he's also astounded at the revelations and tries to put the pieces of the past together. She then goes on about the conversation on the dance floor and how it led to the rendezvous in the secret passage. Then, the blow up with Ron and her finally deciding to sign the paperwork. She reaches over and takes his drink before telling him how she decided to go to Draco's house to have someone to talk to before the panic attack took hold. Hermione stalls a bit before telling Harry about staying for the rest of the evening. Harry's reactions are priceless when she went in hilarious detail about Rose and Scorpius discovering them in the morning.

Harry rubs his face and massaging between his eyes. He hasn't worn glasses for the past few years but still adjusts his "ghost glasses" as he likes to call them. There was an encounter where he almost lost a battle because his glasses flew off of him. He decided it would be best for his occupation to get laser surgery to correct his vision.  She then finally told him about the awkward encounter back at the house, the incredibly tense meeting at Justin's, and how her children are relieved the divorce is finally happening.

"Blimey, Hermione. All this happened since last night? Have you slept?" He signals to the waitress for two more drinks.

"Maybe thirty minutes. Hour tops."  

Being ever the auror, he analyzes the situation with deductive reasoning. "So first off. You and Ron will always be my best friends, and no matter what happens, I'll be here. Now, I have been there for all your ups and downs, and as someone who can say they know both of you better than you know yourselves, you two have been out of sync for a long time—and you know that. You must owe me thousands of pounds and galleons for all the liquor you drank at my house."

"I can’t remember if I said it out loud, or in my head, but I think the term 'legally binding friendship' sums up the marriage," Hermione adds.

"As harsh as that sounds, it's probably accurate—to an extent. You haven’t even been very friendly as of late. Look, yeah, there was a slow build-up to you finally realizing how you felt for each other and it took some crazy traumatic experience to call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. Not that Ginny and I were that much better, but we did have a relatively normal, teenage relationship before the shit hit the fan. I wanted you to be together for my selfish reasons. We aren't just best friends; we're family. As much as I don't want to break up the band, Ginny and I have seen the two of you drift further and further apart,” Hermione listens intently to Harry as he shares his wisdom.

He continues, “When it comes to Ron, he could never keep up with you, and he never will. You've always been older and more mature than us. Let’s face it, in those early years, we wouldn’t have survived without you being a mother hen—and maybe that was part of the appeal of your relationship with Ron. He enjoys being taken care of, not the cooking and cleaning, but the management of his life.”

“Thanks. Let’s add an Oedipus complex to the long list of things wrong with our marriage,” Hermione rolls her eyes at the realization. Harry might have a point.

“Of course I know that you had more experience than Ron did when you got married. Did you honestly think I didn’t know about McLaggen?” Hermione realizes her decades-long secret wasn’t as guarded as she thought. Harry is mock annoyed at the astonishment on her face, “He came to hospital after that disastrous match and told me you were the reason he was such a mess on the pitch. Poor guy. I felt sorry for him even though he had just cracked my skull. Then he started going on and on about your naughty rendezvous—and how he would never find another girl like you."

She's good and buzzed at this point and just spills the beans, "He was so cute and so much fun. I didn’t think he would end up falling for me. He said ‘no strings attached.’ Oh, my sweet boy toy,” Hermione looks up as if she recalls the memories.

Harry just twists a smile knowing there are so many layers to Hermione that most people don’t know about and says, “See, if you would have told me you were looking for that kind of fun, I could have told you to avoid Ron.”

“What do you mean?” She’s intrigued to find out what Harry is insinuating.

“He was the only guy in our dorm who didn't wank on a daily basis. You know he told me he got tired of snogging with Lavender? What teenage boy gets tired of snogging?” Harry leans in closer and whispers, “For a while, I didn't know if he was a prude, gay, or just never got horny."

Hermione chokes on her drink at Harry’s comment and says, "His parents had seven children. That's a lot of shagging. You think that would have been passed down!" Between the gin and the sleep deprivation, Hermione is in a fit of giggles. Their food finally arrives, and they nibble while continuing their conversation.

"I said this already, but I mean it. I will be here for you. Always. No matter how hard Ron tries to get me to take a side. I'm not going anywhere." He squeezes her hand across the table to reassure her. "Now. Malfoy?"

"I know! What the hell am I doing?"

"Apparently him."

"Harry, you know how long it had been."

"Stop reminding me. The last time you told me, you said you felt like a calcified oyster that would never get pried open."

"Well, you just always go on and on about you and Ginny and her bum. I was so jealous! You two are like rabbits. I can't believe you only had three children. When was the last time you did it?"

"Last night after Quidditch in one of the spare rooms at the Manor. There are so many places you can hide in that giant house."

"Oh, I know. Harry, last night was so much fun, I don't think there was a time I felt so reckless. So many rooms. He's just so, ugh. I mean, Harry,” she holds her hands out miming her lover’s length and Harry just slaps his hand over his eyes. Hermione continues to ramble, “I've never. He. I mean,” She’s getting flustered at the loss of words and fans herself with the dessert menu, “Oh. So. Many. Stains. It must look like a Jackson Pollock painting. Oh, those poor, poor house elves."

Their laughter is so loud and raucous that the other diners stare in their direction. They apologize and try to compose themselves. "Hermione, would you believe me if I said that Gin and I had suspected something growing between the two of you?"

"Do tell. What is the latest conspiracy theory about Draco Malfoy from the Chosen One?" She says, knowing full well what he was talking about.

"It all started after Godric's Hollow. He said something that made me say, 'Whaaaat?' Then after that, every time you would see each other, it's like a wall was breaking down. Even Albus noticed. We didn’t mention anything because we thought you two were oblivious that it was happening. So I guess after ten years of eye-fucking, you finally decided to do something about it."

"It appears so." She honestly can't think straight anymore. The food, drinks, and sleep deprivation have completely taken over. "Harry, let's get the check. I need to head home and take a nap. So you don't disapprove?"

"Hermione, it’s not up to me to approve or disapprove. You know we are all friends, and this will eventually be incredibly awkward. So other than the fact that sex has caused your brain to stop working, do you know how you feel about him?"

"I think I might be in love with him and am just starting to realize how long I’ve felt this way. Like a light’s been turned on. It's as if I’ve been walking around with a torch for years, never being able to see or experience my surroundings fully. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. Hermione, if we were sixteen and you told me this, I would have murdered the two of you and thought this was some cruel joke. But we're not those kids anymore. You are a grown woman, making your own decisions. Alright Khaleesi, if Riding the Dragon makes you happy, go for it."

"Did you just call me 'Khaleesi' and refer to sex with Draco as 'Riding the Dragon'?"

"I believe I did. You're welcome."

______

The smells from the kitchen begin to waft into the study and awaken Hermione from a much-needed nap. She feels much more comfortable sleeping in this room than in the master suite, especially with what just transpired. Instinctively, she reaches for her mobile. She sees that Draco texted her, "I slept all day..." It was an obvious innuendo that put a smile on her face. She dials his number and has butterflies in her stomach.

"Hello, gorgeous." She was not expecting him to answer the phone like that and felt her chest start to pound.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty. I'm assuming you didn't go to the Farmer's Market."

"No. I was completely knackered. There was this woman in my house last night making such a racket, kept me up all night."

"Cheeky. I just woke up from a little nap. Today was exhausting."

"So what happened?"

"First off Ron guessed that I was with you last night. He said I smelled of 'old money and betrayal.'"

"That's harsh. I didn't realize my wealth had such a distinctive aroma."

"He thinks if it doesn't smell of pigs and mud, it smells like money."

"Ouch and the upper-middle class, London girl has claws."

"I didn't mean it. Maybe a little. Well, things at Justin's office were tumultuous, but things are signed, and I should be a divorcee in six weeks."

"Interesting and the trip to Europe is in?"

"Six weeks."

"Now if that isn't serendipitous, I don't know what is."

"I called Hugo, Harry and Ginny over for dinner, and they both guessed that this dinner was to announce the split. It seems like everyone else was ready for this except Ron. Also, I had drinks and lunch with Harry and told him about us."

"And?"

"He’s happy if I'm happy. Oh, and he told me to enjoy 'riding the dragon.'"

They both laugh at this comment.

"He said what?"

"You heard me. Don't make me repeat it."

"So now you have the dinner and it’s officially out in the open?"

"Pretty much. I'm secretly hoping Ron announces that he's moving out. He said he wants the summer house and I'm more than happy to give it to him."

"Well, where are you planning on moving to after you step down?"

"I just had my parents' home appraised for 2.4 million pounds, and since they are moving to Tenerife, we planned on selling it, and I get half once it sells as my inheritance. I was looking at a few flats with a view of The Thames or in Hyde Park with a terrace."

"Take my place in Hyde Park. Rose and Scorpius will be taking over my old wing of the manor and will be starting renovations soon.” Draco starts to get excited at the prospect of her being part of his life, “It’s perfect, it’s in the right area, already connected to the floo network, has protective charms. Everything."

"Draco. I don't know—"

"Just think about it. So, will I get to see you tonight?"

"Let me see how dinner goes." She looks at her watch. "Everyone will be here soon. I have to go. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. Good luck."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She suddenly remembers her and Rose's conversation with Rose from earlier that day. She says, " _Revelio_ ," yet nothing is uncovered. Ron had figured it out on his own. Maybe she is so in the haze of infatuation that she is missing the clues that are apparent to everyone else.

Hermione wants this dinner to be over with, and quickly. She freshens up and sends out a group text as to everyone's whereabouts. They all respond and everyone will be arriving within the next twenty minutes. She heads to the dining room to see if Ron needed any help. But it's already prepared. She answers the door and welcomes everyone as they arrive with wine. Oh yes, this night will need wine.

When the family sat at the dinner table, they were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food. Ron had outdone himself by making a beef roast, a chicken, mashed and roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, green beans, salad, a chocolate cake, and trifle. It had appeared that Ron was ready to eat his feelings. Hermione had taken her place at the head of the table, and Ron was opposite of her. She made sure that Rose would be to the left of her and Harry on her right. Ron is between Ginny and Hugo.

The start of dinner was relatively quiet except for the sound of sipping wine or the groans of how hungover everyone was from the engagement party. After everyone had helped themselves to at least one plate, Hermione initiates small talk. "Hugo, how were your rounds?"

"Oh alright, but not exactly dinner conversation, so let's leave it at that," Hugo says between bites. He looks starved. As with most hospital workers, he must not have had the opportunity to eat all day. The table collectively squirms at what he could be implying.

"Hermione cut the chit chat. Just tell them why they are here." Ron says through a mouth full of food. It seems as though he is ready to get it over with as well.

"Ron, they already know. They all guessed I finally signed divorce papers the minute I invited them." She says completely irritated by his complete lack of manners or tact.

He swallows his food, then guzzles down his wine, "Well did she tell you all she's already shacking up with Draco Malfoy?" He looks around at the table, and everyone is looking down at their food not sure if they should answer this question. "Are you kidding me? You all know, and no one else is upset? Harry?"

Harry is exasperated before this even begins. Once again, he is their referee. "Hermione and I had lunch and drinks today, and she told me. I'm going to tell you what I told her. She is free to make her own decisions."

"But it's Malfoy!" Ron's turns about three shades redder than his hair.

"Okay, yeah. Her starting a relationship right at the start of divorce proceedings doesn’t show the best judgment. Sorry, Hermione. But let’s be honest Ron, your marriage has been over for years. The divorce is just a formality. If it weren't Draco, she would have moved on to someone else. No matter how this played out, you two weren't going to end up together forever. You’re the only person who still thinks Draco is a terrible person. We aren’t school rivals anymore. He’s helped the Ministry, my department specifically, on numerous occasions, and he raised a pretty amazing kid. If he's capable of doing that, who knows." Harry knows that is not going to go over well Ron, but he had to say something to not only protect Hermione but his goddaughter as well. In a few months time, she will also be a Malfoy.

"Harry I can't believe you’re taking his side." Ron spat.

"Why does it always have to be "sides" with you?" Now Ginny has come to the defense of her husband. "Ron, do you have any idea of how many hours Hermione has spent in our home trying to figure out how to save your marriage? She wanted to know what made us work and why you two didn't. She knows entirely too much about our love life at this point. All the knowledge, counseling, and talking to you wasn't going to fix things. As your sister, don't expect me to hold any punches. What needed fixing was you. You're so up your ass, Ron, you couldn't see how much she loved you despite your flaws. Hey, I think she's too good for you, but you know what, she still chose you. If you honestly thought she was going to stand by you for the rest of her life while so utterly unhappy, you were kidding yourself."

There is nothing like being scolded by your little sister to make you feel like you can't win an argument, but Ron still tries. "But why him? Why would you leave me for him?"

“Ron, stop. You know me leaving you has nothing to do with him,” Hermione is trying to keep herself steady and calm. "Did I kiss Draco at the party last night, yes. But I went home with you, and you made it clear that you hate our life together. That is why I'm leaving you. My life and who I chose to spend it with is no longer your concern. Will Draco appreciate me more than you? I really think so. He makes me feel complete—nothing is missing when I'm with him. He loves me."

Silence. The whole room went dead silent. No one could retort or comment on the very bold statement Hermione had just made. Rose and Hugo have been quietly sitting while their aunt and uncle defended their mother, who certainly didn't need any help, but it was appreciated.

"Rose. Hugo. You've been awfully quiet. Don't you have anything to say?" Ron looks at his children, hoping they would come to his aid.

Rose turns to her mother, then her father and says, "Dad. Don’t make me choose. You are my dad, and I love you and mum. But the fact is I love Scorpius very much. And I've grown very close to Draco over the years, and he is going to be my father-in-law,” she takes a sip of her wine for extra courage and says, “Wow, I don't know if it's the appropriate time to say this, but it has been on my mind. They don't have a big family to carry on the name. So I decided, after the wedding, I'm dropping Granger-Weasley and am taking Malfoy as my surname. I hope you don't think it's anti-feminist of me, Mum. I just wanted Scorpius and me to be a team."

"That's perfectly fine, Rosie. Your reasons for taking his name are admirable."

"That's it." Ron throws his napkin on the table. "My wife and my daughter! I can't take this. I'm moving out starting now." He storms out, but no one chases him.

Hugo looks around at the very tense faces and asks, "Well that was pleasant. Pudding anyone?"

—xoxox—

Hugo receives an unexpected call and is asked to return to the hospital. So, Hermione sends most of the leftover food with him to bring it to the staff room. Harry, Ginny, and Rose are with Hermione in the sitting room drinking, even more wine. They can hear Ron cursing and feverishly packing.

Harry says, "Maybe I should help him pack?"

"You can try," Ginny tells him, "But you know what he's like when he's like this. He doesn't want anyone's help. 'Everyone is against me. You didn't take my side.' On and on."

"I'll still try. If anything, I can make sure he isn't ruining any of Hermione's stuff," Harry says to the ladies.

"Damn. I didn't think about that. Please hurry." He nods at Hermione in acknowledgment. She turns to Ginny and says, "Oh, Gin. Is he ever going to be okay?"

"Who knows. He's heartbroken, and he's going to have to figure things out on his own."

"I guess you're right." Hermione now turns to Rose, "Rosie are you alright?"

"Daddy is also mad at me now. I'm going to be a Malfoy. Will he say my name with that same disdain? 'Malfoy,'" She impersonates her father's intonation, "What if he doesn't show up to the wedding?" The reality is hitting Rose a bit harder than everyone else. Her mother holds her close as she softly sobs.

"Oh, sweetheart. He'll be there. Do you think Uncle Harry, Hugo, James, and Albus can't overpower your father and make him be there? Albus would put the Imperius Curse on your father before he lets that happen." They sit in silence for a while until she stops crying, "Would you like me to take you to Scorpius?"

"Yes, please."

"Where is he?"

"With Albus at a pub in Wiltshire, near the manor."

"Call him and let him know we're on our way. Ginny, can you and Harry stay with Ron until he leaves?"

"Of course." Ginny hugs Hermione and then Rose. The mother and daughter pair walk outside, onto the landing and apparate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When this chapter was first released, I received a few comments how family members could be so nonchalant about divorce and infidelity. As an adult child who has been between my parents more times than I would like to remember, for the past few decades, I've been praying for them to divorce. When it finally comes, I'll just roll my eyes and say it was about damn time. When you've lived in hostility and seen those you love so unhappy, all you want is for them to find happiness, even if that means moving on. I've also seen infidelity in my family first hand and looked at it more as a sign that things weren't meant to be. Being an adult in a relationship is complex. It's not always being in love forever or having your family have your back. Family and friends will take sides. Just because Ginny and Harry are fine with this, don't expect everyone else. Not trying to spoil too much.


	11. The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to new trio’s summer before seventh year with a jump into their lives as adults. Also friendly competition between Hermione and Draco.
> 
> Sexual innuendos and themes, language

## July 2024

“Albus, why do you have to make the sauce from scratch? Can’t we just pop open a jar?” Rose grows impatient with her cousin’s hobby and is starving—she thought of just ordering a pizza.

“No, Rose. That’s disgusting.” Albus can’t even believe what Rose proposed. “We have ripe tomatoes and fresh garlic and herbs from the back garden. I’m not going to muck up my pizza with sub-par packaged slop.” 

Between fourth and fifth year, Harry and Ginny encouraged Albus to find a hobby that didn’t involve magic—art, music, skateboarding, or cooking. They thought that if Albus enjoyed something non-magical, it would give him confidence and the magic would follow. Albus fell in love with all those hobbies, but it was cooking he excels at most. He spent hours learning from his grandmother, reading cookbooks, and begging his parents to take him to new restaurants and farmers markets.

When Albus decided he wanted to build a vegetable garden, he reached out to Neville Longbottom, to help him. It was only natural that he began to take an interest in herbology under the private tutelage of his godfather, who then promised to tutor him before the start of the school year. Though it was Albus’s best friend, Scorpius, who helped Al put the puzzle together. The young Malfoy found a book about the Potter family’s rich history in the fields of herbology and potions. It made sense—cooking is sort of a non-magical version of herbology and potions. Scorpius convinced his father to tutor Albus, but Draco didn’t need much arm-twisting—anything for a fellow Slytherin. With a newfound love for potions and herbology, Albus went into his fifth year focused and determined.   

With his mouth already full of basil, tomato, and mozzarella, Scorpius tells his girlfriend, “Babe, just eat the Caprese salad Albus already made while we wait.”

“But carbs, Scorpius. Carbs.” Albus makes the best pizza and Rose is annoyed that perfection takes so long. They hear flapping, and four owls swoop through the kitchen window one goes past them, which they assume is on its way to Lily. Two carefully hand their letters to Rose and Scorpius and the other drops Albus’s letter in the sauce.

“My sauce! Damn! I’m going to have to start over.” He pulls out his tomato-covered letter and feathers.

“No!” Rose exclaims.

“Albus, why don’t you just make that caramelized onion white pizza?” Scorpius has always had the ability to solve problems with logic and reasoning. This comes in handy when you have a hot-headed girlfriend and impulsive best friend.

“Brilliant! Scorpius, you are a genius, as always. Sauceless pizza. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? I have some prosciutto in the fridge and Roquette in the garden,” Plan B forms in Albus’ head, “and I also have the balsamic glaze I used on the Caprese. This will work.” With a wave of his wand, he sets his knife to starts slicing shallots, onions, and garlic into thin, uniform strips. He casts another charm, and the dough is stretching and spinning above their heads. He summons the greens from the garden.

They are all eager to tear into their envelopes, so now that all of the pizza preparation is in motion, Albus says, “Alright, on three. One, two, three.”

They all tear into their school letters and read their end-of-term marks and the next year's schedules and shopping list.

“I made Head Girl!” Rose exclaims. "I knew it!"

“And I made Head Boy!” Scorpius throws his arms around Rose.

“Hey, everyone! Slythernerd and Gryffindork made Head Boy and Girl!” Albus hollers. All of their parents are at his house as they have some investor meeting. He's not exactly sure what that means, but it's apparently important for international magical relations and will make their families more money.

Rose backs Scorpius up against the counter and says, “I guess it is now part of my responsibilities to spend lots of time with you.”

“Guess so.” He bends down to kiss her.

Albus notices them getting too close to his cutting boards. “Oi! Take your snogging elsewhere. I need the counter space.”

“Ahem,” Ron walks in and the two jump back from each other. The other parents follow behind him.

Albus continues to skim his letter when he sees something that gets him so intrigued that he gets distracted. All of his charms stop including the dough that falls on his aunt’s head. “I’m sorry Auntie. I just got excited. Dad! Mum! I’m getting private lessons in Advanced Apparition. I didn’t even know that was an option!” Harry and Ginny give their son a huge hug. They are excited to see him find his magical niche.

_At the first apparition lesson, Albus astonished all of the instructors when he had mastered the skill without splinching a single hair. They recognized this rare ability, conversed amongst themselves. The Ministry representatives asked Albus if he would participate in more challenging apparition examinations away from the rest of the class. Slightly hesitant, he agreed. They began by testing if he could make it from one end of Hogsmeade to the other. Simple enough. The instructors then tested his vertical apparition skills, in which Albus easily made it onto the roof of The Three Broomsticks. His next task involved running full sprint and then zig-zag apparate/disapparate from rooftop to rooftop. Another examination passed without fail. The final test was the most terrifying. Young Mr. Potter had to fly on a broom, jump off, apparate, and end up back on the broom. Maybe some of his parents’ Gryffindor traits made their way through because he attacked the trial without fear. When he came back to earth, his class went crazy. Needless to say, no one else learned anything that day and just enjoyed the show._

_After the lesson, Albus was presented to Headmistress McGonagall and a smile crept across her face. Over a quarter of a century had passed since she looked at another Potter who also had a natural inclination toward death-defying magical skill. After speaking with Albus, Minerva had deduced that Albus’s talent developed because of the time-turner incident. Those travels enabled his mind to understand travel in a much broader sense, therefore when it was time to learn to apparate, he already had time and spatial awareness. She had no doubt in her mind that he could become skilled in long distance apparition. Albus asked why Scorpius didn’t have the same skill level when it came to apparition. His headmistress explained that Scorpius tends to overthink and clarity of mind is a requirement for travel. His Aunt Hermione had the same problem and didn’t learn how to fly a broomstick right away._  

Harry speaks up, “It has been almost half of a century since the school has offered it. No one has seen a traveler like you in a long time. That’s why it’s a private lesson. Hermione, McGonagall, and I had to pull some strings even to find you an instructor.”

Rose pipes up, slightly jealous and says, “Uncle Harry, we don’t even have aurors who can apparate distances as far as Albus can?”

“Oh I wish,” said Harry, “it would make logistics so much easier.”

“Oh Rosie, are you envious of my talents?” Albus never has the upper hand on his cousin. He’s just going to enjoy this.

“Shut up, Albus,” Rose says to her cousin, “Well it looks like we all passed our classes with high marks and got into the specialty fields we wanted to. Next up is N.E.W.T.s, graduation, and real life.”

“Speak for yourself. Scorpius and I are taking a gap year,” Albus says to Rose. She shoots a severe look at her boyfriend as this is news to her.

"Hey, I was going to tell you eventually." Scorpius doesn't sound convincing.

Hermione speaks up, “Enough teasing you three. I’m very proud of you all. Also, Rose, you should think about a gap year. It’s healthy and will give you some time to figure out what your focus will be.”

“Just don’t let your gap year be one where you wander aimlessly through the countryside looking for Horcruxes.” Ron doesn’t remember the gap year as fondly as Hermione does. “Give me a hug Rosie. I’m very proud of you. Scorpius, please do your best to resist my daughter.”

Rose is mortified, and Scorpius is pale as a sheet, “Yes sir.”

“Hey, you four,” Ron is addressing Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Draco, “Ernie is still in the drawing room reviewing those contracts.”

“Gin, go ahead. I will bring back snacks and drinks.” Harry calls to his wife.

“Bring those homemade crisps Albus made. The truffle parmesan ones.” Ginny has been thoroughly enjoying this hobby of her son’s. Though she would never admit to her mother, Albus’s cooking is better than Molly’s and Hogwarts combined.

Harry sneaks onto a stool at the island and just starts munching on the crisps while Albus returns to preparing lunch. Hermione and Draco still wanted to chat with Rose and Scorpius.

Draco leans over to Hermione, points at Rose and Scorpius who are pouring over the details of their letters, and says, “You know, that was supposed to be us.”

She is caught off guard, “What? What do you mean?”

“You and I were supposed to be Head Boy and Head Girl at the same time. But you were off being a truant.” Draco knows where she was, but just felt compelled to make a joke.

“Oh that’s right, you were the Death Eater Head Boy, the year the school was taken over by a Death Eater Double Agent Headmaster and Death Eater professors. Yeah, you totally deserved that title.” The tone of her voice is very playful, almost flirtatious, “Sorry I couldn’t be Head Girl with you. There was this little issue of a bounty on my head and trying to destroy Voldemort.”

“Granger don’t discredit my six years of academic excellence. You know that if things didn’t go down the way they did, it would have been you and me.” Draco looks at her from the corner of his eye.

There is something odd about this conversation that makes Hermione uneasy, but still, she enjoys the banter. “That is true; you were always right behind me in all of our classes. Sorry, I always had to be on top.”

Draco doesn’t know if Hermione was being honest or making an innuendo. The signals she was sending were very confusing. Rose and Scorpius finally put down their letters and walk towards their parents.

“Draco, being Head Boy, does that make you the original Slythernerd?” Albus speaks up after sliding the pizzas in the oven. He thinks the adults in the room completely forgot he was there.

Hermione speaks up, “No he wasn’t a nerd, he was an elitist prat who loved to throw his name around.” She throws a playful look his way.

"And you were an insufferable know-it-all." Draco retorts.

“Oh! So Rose is more like Draco and Scorpius is more like you! Oh. I totally see it now.” Hermione can't help but laugh at Albus's joke. It was so spot on.

“Hey!” Rose punches her cousin in the arm and Scorpius sniggers.

“You know on our first train journey; Rose said because I was a Potter and she was a Granger-Weasley, we had our pick of any friends, and we had to be tactical about the alliances we make.” Today is Albus’ day. He hasn’t had a chance to take the mick out of his cousin like this in ages.

Harry chokes on the crisps, “Malfoy. She is like you! You did the same to me on our first train ride. God, I wish I could remember what you said to me.”

“I think it was something to the effect that some wizarding families are better than others. It was childish and idiotic. Well, the world has a funny way of working out.” The two men share a smile and a nod. They aren’t overly sentimental or forthcoming with their feelings.

“Albus, if you’re done teasing me, is the pizza almost done? Scorpius and I can start setting the table.” The hunger takes over, and she’s becoming irritable.

“Yeah, just about done. Don’t forget to take the salad that’s on the island and the other one in the fridge. Oh, and the sangria,” Albus says to the two. He’s impressed with his Italian-inspired lunch.

Draco looks down at Hermione, and she has some flour on her face from where the dough fell on her head. “You’ve got something here on your face,” He carefully takes her face in his hands and gently brushes the white dust off her cheeks and forehead and runs his fingers through her hair to shake any excess flour off.

“Did you get it all?” Her eyes meet his, and he swallows hard.

“Yes, I think so, but it’s hard to tell with this white stripe. Why don’t you dye it? You are way too young to have a streak like that.” Draco doesn’t know why he said that.

“You’re going to insult my hair? What about this ponytail?” She catches herself twirling it. “You need to get rid of it. Talk about making you look old. It reminds me of your father.”

They seem to be creeping closer to each other and exchanging flirtatious glances.

Then they hear hollering from down the hall. It’s Ginny, “Harry, Hermione, Draco! Where are you and where are those snacks?”

Hermione lets go of Draco’s hair, “we better go.”

“Yeah. All those papers to go over and sign. After you,” Draco presents his arm out to let her take the lead and puts his hand on the small of her back as they head back into the drawing room.

Harry looks down, and he’s eaten the whole bowl of crisps. “Al, do you have any more crisps? I seem to have eaten them all.”

“Yes.” He flicks his wand, and a paper bag floats down from one of the cupboards. “I’m guessing you were enjoying the show as much as I was?”

Harry laughs, “Don’t tell your uncle. I don’t think the two of them even realize they were doing it. Yeah, but it was quite enjoyable to watch. I better get back.”

“Bye, Dad.” Albus takes the bubbling, thin crust pizzas out of the oven, garnishes and slices them. His stomach grumbles reminding him eating is just as necessary as cooking. When he finally arrives at the dining table, his brother and sister have joined Rose and Scorpius. It also appears everyone has had a head start on the sangria. Their eagerness to eat his cooking put a smile on his face. “Buon Appetito!”

“So did our parents say anything interesting after we left the room?” Scorpius must assume that Hermione and Draco would be talking about Rose and him.

“Nope. Nothing.” He shoved the slice of pizza in his mouth and left it at that.

 

##  —xoxox—

## March 2030

When Rose and her mother arrive at the derelict, old building, Hermione realizes a disillusionment charm is cast around the pub to ward off muggles. As they get closer, the spell wears off and reveals a charming, two-story, white brick and thatched roof pub called The Rose and Scorpion.

"Rosie, the name of this place?"

"Surprise! We bought a pub."

"You bought a pub? Why?"

"Thought it would be a fun investment. We spend so much money going out, might as well be at one we own. Also, we'll be moving into the manor after the wedding, so we'll be nearby."

They walk in and see a few of Rose, Scorpius, and Albus' old schoolmates, maybe about fifty people. "The pub is not officially open to the public yet. It has ten rooms, all with extension charms to feel more spacious," Rose tells her mother.

As Hermione walks by, she gets the odd handshake here and there from the young men.

"Surprised to see you here, Minister."

"Can I buy you a pint, Minister?"

She just responds with, "Hello, boys."

She can tell the Slytherin boys from a mile away. They're the ones with the perfect hair and clothes, posh accents, and eager to kiss up to her. It's all very flattering, but she has her own Slytherin alumnus to find.

“Rose!” A very handsome young man with a very familiar look about him runs up to Hermione and Rose.

Rose rolls her eyes as she knows what he is going to say, “Declan.”

“So you’re really marrying Slythernerd?” he asks in a somewhat astounded manner.

“Well, we did just have a huge engagement party, and you are at pub with our names on it, so yeah.” Rose’s annoyance is quite apparent.

Hermione interjects by clearing her throat.

“I’m sorry, Minister,” he presents his hand, “Declan McLaggen.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she says with a bit of a smirk and shakes his hand. Of course, Cormac’s son would have a thing for her daughter, “Tell your dad I said ‘hi.’” She gives him a suggestive wink and pulls Rose away from the conversation before anything else could be said.

“Mum, what was that all about?” Rose catches onto her mother’s subtle suggestion.

“Mummy has her secrets and intends them to stay secret,” Hermione says to her daughter, and it really doesn’t sit well with Rose.

Rose hears barking and Titus is running toward her at full speed. She bends down to catch him. "Hello, my little man! I've missed you. Where is your daddy?" Scorpius and Albus are making their way over.

Hermione gives her nephew a big hug and Albus kisses his aunt on the cheek, "I didn't get to talk to you at all last night. Okay, let's see them." He pulls his sleeves up and collar down to show his tattoos. "They are coming along. I like how filled in it's getting." Hermione has a secret love of tattoos but has always been too chicken to get them herself, "I want to know all about your travels to France, Norway, Morocco, India, The States, am I missing any?"

"A few other places here and there. I'll tell you about it later. So how did it go, Auntie?"

Rose cuts in, "Well, your mum and dad are ‘Team It's About Damn Time.’ Hugo was relieved and happy to have food. That poor boy. I don't think they feed anyone at that hospital. Dad was a complete arse. He went mental when I told him I was changing my name. So you know...just another day in the Granger-Weasley household." Scorpius missed Rose while she was away and holds her in a tight embrace squeezing the puppy between them. He gives her a kiss and Titus begins to lick them both. Without words, she instantly feels more at ease.

"Well, the legal part of the divorce will be the easy part. Dealing with the rest of the Weasley clan will be difficult," Hermione tells Rose and the boys. She tries to keep her voice down because she doesn't know who could be in this room. Some of them could be very well connected. “Speaking of which, are any of your cousins or siblings here?”

"No. We kept the party just to our class. Sort of a mini-reunion. Oh, Gran is going to flip her wig," Albus says with a sound of concern. His grandmother, as sweet and caring as she is, had a feisty streak. "She's incredibly traditional. Has there ever been a divorce on the Weasley side?"

"I don't think so. Honestly, Gran scares me the most. But, Al—your mum. Bloody hell, I thought she ripped my dad a new arsehole. It was incredible." Rose says no longer attempting to hide her swearing. She sees the look on her mother's face. "Mum, don't give me that look. I'm not at the ministry right now; I drank almost a whole bottle of wine, still not sure if my dad will ever to forgive us, and I'm at a pub. I'm going to fucking swear if I want to."

“Frankly, I don't give a damn if you swear. Your dog is drooling all over your arm, and it's disgusting. That is what that look is for.” Rose and Scorpius look down at the puppy who had indeed slobbered all over Rose’s black cashmere sweater. They put him down and attempt to clean it up. “Well, this pub is cool. I like the white lacquer on the bricks and herb wall. When is it officially open?"

"In two weeks," says Scorpius. "Everyone here was at the party last night, so we opened this weekend just for them."

"Well who is running the pub with both of you working at the Ministry?" Hermione asks the young proprietors.

"That would be me," Albus announces. "I am finally settling down and putting all that culinary training to practice. I also just became a brewmaster while in Germany. We'll eventually have a microbrewery here. I got these to commemorate it." He points at a large tattoo of two crossed chef's knives with a snake wrapped around them and then to a beer stein with overflowing froth. "I also plan on becoming a whisky ambassador within the year. Draco is ecstatic. He was thinking about joining me. The concept of the menu is going to be magical gastronomy. It's a spin on molecular gastronomy but using charms and potions. I’m going to have a family tasting party this week to get everyone's feedback before opening. Do you think you can make it?"

"I would love that, Albus. Your uncle and I promised we wouldn’t tell the rest of the family about the divorce until after the wedding. So fingers crossed, he can stay civil and keep this hushed during the dinner." The idea of seeing her nephew thrive in his element makes her truly happy. She has always loved that he is so different from everyone in the family and can stand on his own. He's not lumped with the Potters or the Weasleys. He is Albus, much like she is Hermione Granger. Keeping her maiden name wasn't just about embracing feminism, it was about preserving her identity. In a way, she wanted her family name to be just as recognizable as any other wizarding family.

“God, I hope so. But if he gets out of line, I can easily slip a sleeping draught into his ale. Not a problem.” Albus tries to ease some of the tensions he could see on his aunt’s face.

"Thank you, Albus. Honestly, the sooner you can do that in the evening, the better. We can just hide him in one of the bedrooms.” She gives him a wink. 

He licks his lips and shakes his head. He loved when his aunt showed her wicked side.

“Albus, my mother will let you get away with anything! She is so much more lenient with you than her own children.” Rose knows that Albus is her mother’s favorite nephew and is a little jealous of the fact that he can basically get away with murder. “You know she said she would let you use the Imperius Curse on my dad if he didn't show up to the wedding?”

“Oh brilliant. Yeah. I can do that.” Scorpius loves being the fly on the wall for this family chat. “Scorpius, that's one of my roles as best man, right? Use Unforgivable Curses on unruly family members? That and planning the stag party. I am going to apologize in advance, Rosie. I've figured out how to apparate to either Las Vegas or Bangkok in a single trip.”

Rose begins to flush and looks like she is about to strangle her cousin. Scorpius still has his arms around her, “Oh, babe, don't worry. We won't go that far. Maybe just Amsterdam or Ibiza.” She elbows him in the stomach, causing him to wince.

“Boys, if you are going to tease Rose like that, I'm going to have to send the girls someplace where there are tanned cabana boys who are all too are eager to rub sunscreen on porcelain-skinned British girls.”

Mommy to the rescue, Rose thinks to herself. “Okay. We probably deserved that,” Scorpius says to his future mother-in-law.

“Maybe a little,” she tells him in a very playful tone. “Is your dad here?"

"Yes. He's playing darts and destroying all our friends. I think he's already won over 200 galleons," he says as he points toward his father's direction.

"Thank you." She waves goodbye for now and starts toward Draco.

Once out of earshot Albus whispers, "Holy shit this is real? My aunt and your dad are a thing."

"Yes. It's beyond weird," Scorpius says, "me and Dad had a good talk, well before he went into his sex coma. God, he’s being so obvious that he finally got laid. It’s gross.”

“Stop!” Albus says while he and Rose cringe. “While I would like to think I will still be having sex at their ages, that’s my aunt, and I consider your father an uncle/mentor figure. It’s just wrong.”

Scorpius says, “Fair. We won’t discuss the details, but I can help but notice they both seem pretty happy despite the oncoming shit storm from the Weasleys.”

“Hey!” Rose says slightly offended.

“Am I wrong?” Scorpius asks her.

“No. Damn it,” She says quite bluntly.

Draco is in the middle of a match, and Hermione enjoys watching him take the mickey out of the young man who decided to challenge him. Out of fear of breaking his concentration, she decides to wait before alerting him to her presence. While leaning up against a post, she admires him as her eyes take him in, head-to-toe. Like always, he's incredibly put together and wearing all black. His cowl neck sweater and trousers are well tailored and fit impeccably. How does he make a casual look still seem so refined? He rolls up his sleeves before throwing the last dart. “Pay up, Stephens. That's four in a row you've lost. We've already gone triple or nothing.” The young man puts a stack of coins on the high top table next to Draco. At this point, it's starting to look like a counting station at Gringotts.

"Malfoy. I get next round." Hermione finally speaks up.

He turns around and tries hard to hide his excitement. "Minister. What a lovely surprise."

"Cut the pleasantries." She bites her lip and is also having a hard time keeping a straight face. "Best two out of three. If I win, you buy me a drink."

"If I win,” Draco comes closer and whispers in her ear, “you have a drink with me back at my place. I think this is what we call a win-win situation."

"It is, but beating you in front of everyone is much more rewarding." She has a devilish look in her eye like she knows something he doesn't. They stand side-by-side and don't realize that a crowd starts to form around them, buzzing with voices placing bets.

"My money’s on the Minister!"

"Ten galleons on Malfoy Senior."

"Wait, before we start, someone check and make sure no one has enchanted the board or the darts," Hermione says to the crowd. A striking young woman with big brown eyes and blue-black hair checks them both and then instructs them to put their wands on the bar. Once giving the okay, the sapphire-haired beauty cozies up to Albus.

Throw after throw; their scores were almost identical, and the wagers increase. Hermione took the first round. The pub erupted into the sound of thunderous applause. She turned around and curtseyed. Rose and Albus started chanting, "Granger! Granger! Granger!"

"Game's not over yet, kids," Draco hollered to the crowd. Round two also goes neck-and-neck. He clinches the second round, but just barely. The pub is split between the chants of "Malfoy!" and "Granger!" The bartender hands Hermione and Draco a fresh round of drinks before the next round.

While the crowd is raucous, Draco takes the opportunity to whisper in Hermoine's ear. "Let's up the ante, shall we? If you win, I service you. If I win, you service me."

She picks the cherry out of her cocktail and seductively bites it off the stem. "You're on."  

Everyone anticipates the final match. Hermione and Draco can't manage to hide their smiles; this is just too much fun. The tensions are high, and the pub is getting warm. She takes off her chunky cable knit sweater to reveal a black silk camisole, and the edges of her black lace bra peek out. Draco then takes off his sweater and is wearing a form fitted v-neck undershirt. Wolf whistles join the chorus of their names. As one would expect, the final match is tight. 

Last throw. Hermione sends the last one flying, but it doesn't stick and drops off the board. She places her hands on her hips and hangs her head in defeat. You can hear the clang of gold, silver, and bronze as the gamblers settle their debts.

Draco takes it upon himself to play bartender and grabs a bottle off the top shelf and pours the two of them each a drink. "Cheers. So when are you going to make good on this bet?" He sips his drink while staring at her with a stupid grin.

"Don't worry. I always pay my debts,” the beguiling woman gives the object of her affections a very playful wink. “Well, I'll have to leave first, and then you'll have to wait a little while, and then follow me."

"Or we can just go upstairs."

"Do you know how many of these kids work at the ministry? Almost half. No. Not here."

"Okay, fine. Say goodbye to the kids. I'll meet you in my room. Tell Jollie to open the gate for you." 

Hermione finishes the last of her drink then puts her sweater back on. Scouring the crowd to find her daughter, future son-in-law, and nephew, she finally spots them and walks in their direction. "You three, this is such a cool place, and I wasn't expecting to have this much fun! The pub will be incredibly successful, especially if you can keep it packed with young people like this, it's unique and fun — not full of dust and old drunk hags. Please, don't forget to let know the date of the official grand opening and the tasting. I need to put those dates in my diary. I'm heading home to make sure Ron didn't destroy anything on his way out." She hugs the three and gives Titus extra scratches before leaving.

Not five minutes later, Draco comes up to them to say goodbye. "I think I've stolen enough money from your friends for the night." He then hands an extraordinarily heavy sack of coins to Rose. "Use it for the pub." He squeezes the boys on their shoulders and gives Rose a kiss on the cheek; then he is gone as well.

"They're so going to get caught before the wedding," Scorpius says.

"Most definitely," says Albus.

A very drunken young man comes between them and throws one arm around Rose and one arm around Scorpius. "Rosie."

"Yes, Karl," Rose replied.

"Your mum is well fit. Proper MILF. How does she have such a tight ass at her age? Scorp, your dad is a ledge!" After a few pints, Karl turns into a such a lad, "Has he dipped his wick in the Minister? Because that didn't look like a friendly game of darts. That was more like foreplay — with the stripping, the winking, and the fact he couldn't take his eyes off her."

"Sod off, Jenkins. I think you've had too much to drink." Scorpius removes Karl's arms off himself and Rose and makes a gesture for him to get lost.

"They're fucked," Rose knows this isn't going to end well and that any plans they had with keeping the press out will be pointless.

"So fucked," says Albus.

"Totally fucked," adds Scorpius.


	12. Coming Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to sixth year in Advanced Potions and then debts are settled in the present.
> 
> Rating: M: sexual situations, innuendos, and themes, language

February 1997

“Hello class! Today is Valentine’s Day,” the potions master says excitedly to his class. They don’t return the sentiment as two-thirds of the class are young men. The other third are four of the least giggly young ladies in their year and have no concerns with things as frivolous as greeting card holidays. Professor Slughorn refuses to acknowledge their disinterest and continues with his lesson. “Today we will be making Amortentia! While it has no practical uses, I thought it would be the perfect potion for today’s lesson. I introduced it on the first day of school, but now you get to make it. You have until the end of the class to complete. Begin!”

A resounding chorus of groans and grumbles come from the teenagers as they set to work. Though they are in the dungeons in the dead of winter, the classroom feels like a sauna with the cauldron fires and rising steam from the bubbling potions. Many students shed their robes, jumpers, and vests. Some of the girls opt to wear knee socks instead of full-length tights on potions days. As the room gets warmer and warmer, the girls and boys push up their sleeves, unbutton their shirts, and loosen their ties.

After the potions had been brewing for some time, Blaise Zabini looks up from his cauldron. This room is a powder keg of teenage hormones about to explode—everyone has stripped off half of their uniforms, sweat drips from their foreheads, and even the girls have untucked and tied up their shirts exposing their midriffs. _What the hell was going on? Was this the potion?_ “Drake. Draco. Psst!” he tries to get his friend’s attention.

“What?” He responds, clearly annoyed with Blaise, “I’m almost done. Can’t we talk after?”

“No. Just look up,” Blaise urges his fellow Slytherin with a manic intent in his eyes that Draco has no choice but to look up. The spiraling vapors create a haze around the room and everyone looks incredibly sexy—guys and girls alike. It’s as though everyone is moving in slow motion. _Did the girls skirts get shorter? They are showing way more skin than is approved per school dress code._ “Didn’t I tell you? Look at how Granger is arching her back looking at her cauldron. I wouldn’t mind getting filthy with that.” He holds up his wand and says, “Shall we?”

Theodore Nott interjects knowing what Blaise and Draco are up to, “If you two arseholes try and lift up Daphne’s skirt, I will murder you.”

“Relax, Theo. We know she’s off limits. Besides, it’s the mudbloods that have the sexy knickers,” Blaise winks at the most studious of the Slytherins.

Theo shoots a scowl at Draco and Blaise, then returns to his potion and checks to see how Daphne is doing with hers.

“There. Done,” Draco inhales his potion and it smells just like her—roses and wildflowers in the country, green apples, and summertime. _Damn it,_ he thinks to himself. “Now I can play this silly game with you, Blaise.”

Blaise points his wand at Hermione and the slightest breeze barely moves the woolen skirt.

“Pathetic. You have to wait until she moves. Be patient,” Draco says smugly.

Once Hermione’s potion has revealed its mother-of-pearl sheen, she inhales its scent and is shocked. The amortentia smells a bit different than first day of school. She never admitted it to anyone, but she had smelled traces of Ron’s shampoo, and this time it smells different. She looks over to Ron who is still working on his and Harry has finished early, yet again. Hermione quietly slips over to Professor Slughorn to ask him about what could cause the differentiation.

She crosses the room toward the Professor and passes the Slytherin table.

“Now,” Draco whispers to Blaise and makes swirling motion with his wand. Hermione’s skirt lifts and hovers long enough for the boys to get a good look of her sheer thong underwear revealing her fresh shave and perfectly toned bottom. Draco bites down on his fist at the sight and loses his concentration.  

“Oh, God,” Blaise doubles with a strained look on his face. Beyond embarrassment, he points down at his trousers and says, “ _Scourgify_.”

Draco whispers to him, “Blaise, did you just—”

“Shut up, Draco.” With that Blaise puts his head on the desk.

“Professor, may I ask you something, in private?” Hermione says in a hushed tone not to alert the whole class of her development.

He takes her by the arm and they move closer to the storage closet, but they don’t go in, “Yes Miss Granger, what is it?”

“Well, I have completed my potion, but it doesn’t quite smell the same as the first day of class. The last time I took a whiff of amortentia, I smelled parchment, fresh cut grass, and a very recognizable scent,” she blushes slightly at the thought, which her professor catches. Hermione continues, “But now it smells different.”

“Oh? Any recent changes in your love life? Sorry to pry, but it would help make sense of things,” Professor Slughorn was trying to be coy, but he most definitely wanted to find out the gossip.

“Well,” she blushes harder than before. Hermione hadn’t noticed, but Draco had slipped behind her to put away some ingredients and instruments. “Yes, there is someone, but the potion doesn’t smell anything like him. He smells of vanilla, light musk, and spices.”

“That is a very exotic and alluring combination,” the professor has a good memory when it comes to scents and is trying to place a face to Hermione’s description. “But you say that your potion doesn’t smell of your mystery man? What does it smell like?”

“It still smells of parchment and grass but now more wooden and a bit fresher and less flowery,” she pauses as she thinks of what the smell is, and absentminded inhales. The vapors of the amortentia are filling the room and the scent is so strong, as if it is right next to her, “like orange or lemon.”

Draco walks away from Hermione and the professor with a crooked smile on his face. She whips her head in his direction knowing that he had overheard the conversation, but turns back to the professor.

Slughorn raises his eyebrow at her and says, “What it sounds like to me is what you are attracted to most has changed.”

Further flabbergasted at the results she asks, “What do you mean?”

“My dear, the heart is fickle and it wants what it wants. Amortentia, while fun to make and find out results, is by no means prophetic. Just enjoy the class and we’ll dump out these potions when we are done. But if you want to keep a vial for research purposes, to see if the scent changes again, I will allow it.” he says to her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Thank you, professor,” she says to him looking more confused than before she spoke to him. As she walks past the Slytherins, Blaise and Draco have very suspicious looks on their faces. Part of her is curious, the other part of her knows that if it involves both Malfoy and Zabini, it can’t be good.

“Erm. Hermione—your—um—” Ernie McMillan points at her skirt and it’s all bunched up and twisted revealing a good deal of her right leg and part of her backside.

“Oh my God,” she’s completely mortified knowing that she just spoke to the professor and he said NOTHING about it. Now she knows what Draco and Blaise were smirking about—perverts. All of them, Professor Slughorn included. Damn Slytherins. “Thank you, Ernie. At least I know of one GENTLEMAN in this class,” she says loud enough for Malfoy and Zabini to hear and they cannot contain their laughter.

Hermione smooths out her skirt, unrolls her sleeves, tucks in her shirt, and adjusts her tie. It’s still too hot to layer on the jumper and robes.

“Smell anything interesting?” Harry whispers to Hermione.

“Not sure. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” she replies back, “that’s what I went to ask Slughorn about.”

“Eh, it’s a potion. How accurate could it really be?” Harry is trying to read between the lines but isn’t quite sure what Hermione could be implying.

“You’re right, but still,” She pours a little bit into a vial and pockets it, “professor said I could keep a little for research. See if the smell changes.”

Back at the Slytherin table, Blaise whispers to Draco, “So being purebloods, that just means we’re only supposed to marry other purebloods so that our heirs remain pure, right? Isn’t there some kind of clause saying that it’s okay to mess around with muggle-borns and half-bloods, as long as we don’t marry them?”

“Sorry mate, but the rule is look but don’t touch,” Draco tells Blaise, though he has already violated that rule himself.

“That sucks. I need to go to France or something. You know how hard it is to find a pureblood girl I haven’t fucked or am not related to?”

“You’re not kidding. My family tree is starting to look more like a spiderweb.”

The two young men are in hysterics, but their professor interrupts the revelry. “Wonderful job, students. You may be dismissed.”

Draco slides off his stool and leans over to Blaise, “Unlike you, I can hold it a little longer. Time to head to the loo and make a withdrawal from the wank bank.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, will you?”

“Nope. Maybe I’ll even tell Granger one day.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He gives his friend a devilish smile and shrug of his eyebrows and heads to the bathroom.

—xoxox—

## March 2030

Draco walks into his room, and Hermione's clothes are in a pile on the floor. Without asking for permission, she slipped into one of his silk pajama tops. While tying her hair up in a bun, she catches his reflection in the mirror and turns around.

“You look so much better in that than I do.” After hours of not being able to hold or kiss her, he takes her hand and yanks her into his arms and presses his lips against hers. It feels as though it has been an eternity. He rubs his hands up and down the black silk feeling all her curves under the baggy top. “I'm guessing by the pajamas you're planning on staying the night?”

“My house is so empty and lonely.” She nuzzles her face into his neck and inhales his scent. “Your scent. I can't get enough of it.”

“Well, it's the same scent I've been wearing for thirty-five years.”

“Really? You know I held onto your scarf for months just so I could smell it every time I thought of you. What is it?”

“A perfumery in the South of France created a custom scent for me. It has been so long, I can't remember all the notes, but I believe it has sandalwood and citrus, other nuanced layers, but what I loved about it was how it reminded me of the Quidditch pitch and new books.”

All of a sudden an old memory flashes before her. “Do you remember Valentine’s Day in sixth-year Advanced Potions?” She can't wipe this silly grin off her face, and he knows exactly where she is going with this story.

“Oh, I remember that day well. Did you smell me in your amortentia?” He then kisses her collarbone and takes a whiff of her perfume, and it has the same effect on him as his cologne does on her, “Are you saying all I had to do was just put on some extra cologne, and you would have been mine?" Draco looks quite pleased with himself while she rolls her eyes.

“We have already discussed this. You would have had to do a lot more to win me over back then.” She parts her lips inviting his kiss. Her tongue slips past his lips and can taste his last drink.

“Can I finally say that I won you over?”

Sarcastically, she says, “Yes. Draco Malfoy has finally won over Hermione Granger.”

“Tonight must be my lucky night. I just keep winning,” he says smugly as his hands continue to roam her body.

Not giving in so quickly, she asks, “Speaking of which, what did you do with all your earnings?”

“I gave it to the kids to use for the pub.”

“How kind of you—giving a couple of rich kids even more money.”

“But we love those rich kids. And hey, it was hard work swindling all those ministry brats,” he boasts.

“You wouldn’t know hard work if it hit you in the face.”

In mock offense, he replies. “May I remind you— _single father_ , self-taught eight languages, guitar, and piano, and I read a new book a week. Also, I don't just collect checks, I am actively involved with my investments. You may not realize this, but it’s not easy managing two estates, even with help and magic. And Minister, don’t forget that I’m nominated for Order of Merlin, Third Class for my potions work. So, I have never had a _job_ but that doesn't mean I don't know what hard work is.”  

“Mmm. You're sexy when you prove me wrong.”

“Say it again.”

“That you’re sexy?”

“That you were wrong.”

“Oh shut up,” their mouths meet once again, this time with very little restraint. Her body coaxes him backward toward the chaise lounge. She reaches down to unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers. Pulling away from the kiss, but still close enough to feel each other's breath, she whispers, “Right now, I believe I have a debt to pay.” Carefully, she slides her hand inside his pants and begins stroking his length; from base to tip. While so many women dislike foreplay, she thrives on it. It's a bit of a power trip knowing you can turn a man into putty with just your hands or mouth. In the borrowed pajama top, her wand rests in special pocket. She unsheathes it and summons a bottle of warming lubricant. A few drops are placed in her hand so that it slides more smoothly and provides an additional sensation.

He becomes weak at the knees under her spell, moaning and gripping her hip for support. She licks her lips, pleased at her handiwork and pushes him to take a seat. Her fingers make quick work stripping off his sweater and undershirt, shoes and socks, and finally his pants and trousers. While he is fully on display, she keeps on the top. Draco's face reveals he's aching for her attention once more. Her hands slide up his thighs as she readies herself to pay her debt. She begins to lick him as if he was her favorite flavor of ice cream. Her tongue and lips try to memorize his curves, bumps, and grooves and what actions elicit pleasurable responses. When she finally takes him in, his sounds of rapture make her heart race. Her hands continue to stroke him—there is only so much that can fit in her mouth. Every bob of her head inches him closer to the edge. Her eyes pierce his, reminding him she is the one in control. Draco thought having her ‘service’ him would put him in the dominant role, but it seems to be quite the opposite—for now.

“Are you going to stay clothed?” Draco pants. The words barely escaping his lips as he holds the side of her face.

She doesn't answer him, instead, increases her pace and ferocity. His movement signal he's creeping closer to the finish line. 

Draco has had enough of being her plaything and pulls away. “Get off your knees. Take everything off and sit on my cock. Then I'll consider this debt paid.” His command is so powerful and sexy, but she isn’t ready to relinquish her power just yet.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember, that as terms of our agreement. You said I have to ‘service you,'” she tsks, purses her lips to the side and places her finger on her chin as if she was mulling over a contract. “That language does seem vague. I believe you found a loophole and I must oblige.” She has such control over everything else in her life, to have someone else take the lead was freeing. 

When he finally sees all of her, it's like unwrapping a Christmas present. She slowly lowers herself over him, and he can feel the wetness that had built up. He gasps as she grips his shoulders for support. Her hips gently rock, aching to relieve the tension. The foreplay had been fun, but excruciating. Her pace increases as they find their rhythm. Her fingers run through his hair and grab a tuft while she aggressively grinds into him. 

He bites her shoulder, and she emits a sound that triggers his need to please. His teeth drag along her skin and seeking sensitive parts of her body to taste and nibble. 

Not one to be outdone, she grabs his hand and starts sucking on his fingers while continuing to ride him. Draco is lost in the moment and loves how forward Hermione is with her lovemaking. She slowly pulls the fingers out of her mouth, then places both of his hands on her arse and moans, “Squeeze. Hard.” He is more than happy to comply.

Their movements are so wild, for a moment, he fears that the antique chaise will break under them. He attempts to lift her off the chaise and bring her to the bed, but the change in position heightens the sensation and makes them both come. They fall back into the chair; thankful it hasn't broken yet.

“You are turning me into a very naughty girl,” She says to him.

“I am? Don't kid yourself. I think you've always been naughty, but were never let out of your cage. If you continue to be so savage,  you'll destroy my family heirlooms.” They remain coupled while he returns to normal.

She then runs her fingernails down his chest. “I love that you aren't intimidated to challenge me.”

“I will gladly challenge you over and over and over again.”

“Well maybe only once tonight. I didn't get to sleep all day like some people. I need some rest and still have to wake up early and get ready at home. I wish I just brought everything.”

“Just run home real quick and grab a few things. I have plenty of room in my drawers and closet.”

She finally dismounts him and says, “Maybe I will.” She puts his pajama top and her panties back on. Before she leaves, she finally remembers to text Ginny.

—xoxox—

_Hermione: Hey. How did it go? Mostly moved out?_

_Ginny: Yeah. We are actually at the Summer House with Ron still. Trying to get him settled. He's clammed up and quiet. Where have you been?_

_Hermione: At the kids’ new pub. Did Albus tell you? Rose and Scorpius said nothing to me about it._

_Ginny: Yes! He was so excited and told me he got interviewed by Polly Chapman earlier today. I'm going to read the draft when I get into the office tomorrow._

_Hermione: Oh, that's who that was! I didn't recognize her with the blue hair and tattoos. She could be a good fit for Albus..._

_Ginny: We will see ;) Apparently, she asked him out in the middle of their interview._

_Hermione: You're kidding! Well, I can't wait to read this article now._

_Ginny: I do like her. If I could get at least one of my children to settle down I will be thankful._

_Hermione: Come on. This is Albus we are talking about. Like he would settle down?_

_Ginny: I have a good feeling about this. Call it mother’s intuition._

_Hermione: Oh, Gin. But it's safe for me to head home now? Is no one there?_

_Ginny: You are free to enjoy your solitude. Or not ;)_

_Hermione: lol thanks, Gin!_

—xoxox—

“I just had to text Ginny to make sure no one was at the house. Okay. I'll be right back.” She gives him a quick kiss and heads home.

After passing through the grate, she heads up to her closet; it is spacious and very well organized. It is full of suits, dresses, robes, coats, and everyday wear. She spots her vintage Burberry military style jacket with gold metal and embroidery details and a matching pencil skirt with a gold zipper that runs along the full length of the back seam. She pairs it with an emerald blouse, emerald stud earrings, and black patent leather pumps. Thinking this might become a habit, she grabs a few random pieces of lingerie and casual clothes she can leave at his place. Last order of business, makeup and toiletries. She stuffs them into her Chanel clutch, which is, of course, enchanted with an undetectable extension charm.

When she returns to his room, he's confused as to why she's only carrying a small handbag. Once she puts her whole arm inside of it, everything makes sense. They walk to the closet, and she begins to hang her things. He sees what she has pulled out and approves. “Is my sense of style rubbing off on you?”

“For your information, this is vintage, and I've been waiting a few years for it to come back in style, but I did take your suggestion about wearing green.”

“Hmm.” He's not convinced and helps put away her things. They get ready for bed and seem content doing some of the most mundane things together such as washing their faces and brushing their teeth. It's so wonderfully ordinary and reminds him the little things are just as enjoyable as incredibly passionate moments. They crawl into bed and set their alarms. Hermione rests her head on a pillow while he spoons her. Suddenly she feels his growing erection against her backside.

“Draco, we need to sleep. I have a big day at work and the interviews. Don't forget you also have things to do.”

“I can't help it. He has a mind of his own.”

It seems that her body also had a mind of its own as she began grinding on him. “Okay. One more time then we sleep.”


	13. Is This Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Draco and Hermione are very comfortable with morning routines. Also, a long daily prophet article that is a fun, flirty story that gives some insight into the next generation.
> 
> Rating: M: sexual innuendos and themes, language

## March 2030

The alarm rings annoyingly, and Hermione lazily throws her arm onto the nightstand to turn it off. The bed is just so warm and inviting. She rolls over to look at her lover who is still slumbering soundly. His eyelashes and platinum blonde hair catch the early morning sunlight. She sees how his natural hair color camouflages his grays and scrunches her nose with slight jealousy. Sometime before she turned nineteen, the streak of white at her hairline started growing in. They say that type of coloration happens after a traumatic experience, which would make sense—the war had just ended when she noticed the white roots beginning to grow. She always had this sinking feeling that her hair made her appear more mature, austere, and somehow more credible to the elder ministry officials. Over the years, she had let more and more grays find their way into her ash brown curls to carry on the illusion. Now that she is a respectable age, she has been considering a bolder, younger look. At the party, Dean had been begging her to come to his salon and said it was time to get rid of the “skunk stripe.” Perhaps he was right.

She leans over and pushes the long fringe out of Draco's eyes and gives him a gentle kiss before swinging her legs around to the edge of the bed. Her feet touch the cold floor, and she tries to find her slippers. Still not fully awake, Hermione runs her fingers through her hair, massages her scalp, and contemplates if she’ll ever have a decent night's sleep. Goodness, two nights with this man has physically drained her, not that she is complaining. A pot of coffee and a possible nap in her office today would be most welcome. Before she can stand, Draco grabs her wrist. “Five more minutes. Come back to bed.”

“More sleep sounds delicious, but I have a big day, and so do you.” He takes her hand and kisses it and lets her go.

“You're right. I'll get up in fifteen minutes. Mind setting the alarm for me, love?”

“How nice it must be to be a man with straight hair,” a slight edge of sarcasm in her voice as she sets another alarm.

The warm water of the shower soothes her sore muscles that feel all but atrophied from the stress, lack of sleep, and lovemaking. She considers herself quite limber from all the yoga training, but Draco has pushed her to new boundaries. For someone who has been celibate for over a decade, he seems to get back into the swing of things without a hitch. She lathers her hair and scrubs her body; the bubbles give her a tingly, cleansing sensation. She looks at the bottles and realizes the shampoo and soap must be some of Draco's concoctions. It smells fresh and floral but hopefully didn't possess any effects that are specifically tailored for him. She rinses off and everything seems to be okay. She towels off just as he walks into the bathroom. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and a smack on the bum before getting in the shower.

“Hermione, can you please pass me my toothbrush?” She goes to the sink and puts toothpaste on both of their brushes. “I was hoping to catch you in the shower, but it looks like I am too late. Probably for the best. We would never make it to the Ministry on time.”

She reaches through the curtain and hands him his toothbrush while brushing her teeth. After rinsing her mouth out and spitting, she answers him, “I guess you’re just going to have to wake up earlier if you want a morning session.” Those wavy locks of hers require quite the upkeep. She smooths various potions into her hair and blows it dry with her wand, then applies her makeup and a few spritzes of perfume.

Draco gets out of the shower and sees that she still isn't dressed. “Is there a reason the only thing you’re wearing is perfume?”

“I was just about to go to the closet and get dressed.” Her eyes are glued to him as he runs the towel over his glistening body while she unknowingly bites her bottom lip in admiration.

“Don't give me that look.” With the towel wrapped around his waist, he walks toward her. His hands grab her hips, and he cranes his head down as she looks up. Nose-to-nose, they can smell the spearmint toothpaste on each others breath, his lips begin to speak, “I —,” her lips pry open, awaiting his kiss, “have to shave, and you're blocking the sink.”

“You're a terrible tease.” She pulls his towel off, winds it up, and snaps as his backside with a whip.

“Ouch! Alright. Get dressed. It's my turn to primp. You can keep the towel. I'll air dry.” He gives her a wink as she heads to the closet.

It's been some time since she's worn this outfit and forgot how flattering the form-fitting pencil skirt was and how much she enjoys the feel of the silk shirt against her skin. He walks in as she is admiring herself in the mirror and grazes his fingers across her bottom.

“I like that skirt, especially with those heels. I didn't think your bum could look any tighter or legs longer, but I was wrong,” giving her an approving look with a cock an eyebrow. He pulls out a textured mint green shirt and three-piece charcoal suit. The jacket has a green paisley lining which matches the pocket square. He finishes the outfit with a solid, matte silk emerald tie which he fastens with a simple silver tie pin. Since Hermione has finished putting on her jewelry when he asks, “Can you please help me with my cuff links?”

As her fingers thread the cufflinks into the well-tailored shirt, she takes him in, head-to-toe. Once upon a time, she thought vanity was entirely superficial. Over the years, she realized that the way you present yourself becomes part of your armor. Your outward appearance can give you confidence, create an illusion of intrigue, build trust, or just as a means of self-expression. This is something Ron never understood, but Draco does thoroughly.  

“You look smart.” She wraps her arms around his middle, puts her head on his chest, and squeezes him tightly. This embrace is unencumbered as she pretends the world outside these walls doesn't exist. It shows exactly how at ease she is with him.

“Thank you." He wraps his arms around her to also share his contentment. With a sigh, he rests his head on top of hers and says, "You are beyond beautiful. I can't remember the last time I felt this happy.” Draco wants to tell her that she brings him calm and that being with her feels like an accomplishment, but he doesn’t want to ruin the perfect simplicity of the moment.  

“You make me happy, too.” Hermione’s mind also races thinking of all the things she wants to say to him, but she feels like he already knows. He plants a kiss on her neck, and their lips find each other. “What are we doing for breakfast? Here? Cafe in the city?”

Draco looks at his watch to see how much time they have, “How about here in the solarium? We have some time to have a decent breakfast and read the paper.” He calls for his head house elf and tells her what they would like for breakfast and where they would like to take it. They grab their jackets, wands, mobiles, and in Hermione's case, handbag.

Spring weather is always a bit unpredictable, but the glass and iron solarium allows the sunshine and the beauty of the outdoors inside. Its intricate, Victorian design indicates that it is one of the newer parts of the ancestral home. Much of the metal has patinaed over the years and the soft green blends nicely with the rich greens of the outdoor landscaping and the potted and hanging plants inside. They take their seats at a bistro table which has been set with coffee, tea, and several newspapers. Now that Draco had investments in companies that had both muggle and magical clientele, he did his best to keep up with muggle economics and trade. Hermione was quite pleased to see a muggle paper as she too needs to keep up with non-magical politics. Unlike her predecessors, she makes it a point to visit the Prime Minister for tea every other week, and not just in times of peril. To keep him in the loop, she has The Prophet delivered to 10 Downing Street by hand, not owl. They quietly read to themselves and make remarks here and there about the current events, but ensure that they are always touching each other— their knees resting against each other, or a hand on the thigh, or her foot brushing against his calf muscle.

After flipping through The Guardian, Hermione picks up The Daily Prophet. She sips on her coffee and takes a few bites of her omelet, then almost chokes when she reads the headline. “My god damn brother-in-law. I _despise_ that prat.”

“Percy?” Draco asks without even looking up from his paper. Even he knew that out of all the Weasley brothers, there was only one he could ever imagine Hermione insulting.

“Yes. That sod is all over the paper trying to say the economic plan, though successful, is a threat to the Statute of Secrecy. He’s getting all those dusty windbags who oppose me, behind him. Look, he says the Ministry should propose hefty registration fines on the proprietors and the investors who have magical and muggle clientele—as if muggle taxes weren’t high enough," she growls looking as though she's going to tear the paper in half. "He completely glosses over the fact that this plan has not only improved magical and muggle relations but has also improved trade with the goblins. We have the lowest unemployment rates in centuries. _Also_ , he didn't make a single mention of all the money that has gone into the growth and expansion of Hogwarts and St. Mungo’s or any of the other philanthropic programs!" 

As she grumbles, Draco purses her lips as he rants. Hermione's fiery side comes through, and it's positively adorable. He doesn't say anything but lets her continue her recap the article.  

"He’s just sore that he didn’t jump in on the investment opportunities and he hasn't advanced in the Ministry in years," Hermione's attention diverts for a moment when something catches her eye and seeks his eye contact. "Oh but look, they quoted Rose and Scorpius. When did they have an opportunity to do that? During the engagement party! Who is this reporter and why was he conducting interviews at our party? Sheppard Wolverton. Oh, he’s that horrible investigative journalist who joined the paper a few months ago. How did he get in?" Hermione seethes. She wonders if Percy let him into the party,  "Let’s see how Rose did, ‘Rose Granger-Weasley said she intensely disagrees with her uncle’s views...he is making claims without research...unhappy with his miserable life that he cannot stand to see his sister-in-law and niece in higher ranking positions.’ Oh no! He interviewed her after she had a few."

Draco cringes, knowing that his future daughter-in-law was capable of better representing herself in print. Encouraging Hermione to read on, he says, "Let’s see if Scorpius fared better."

Hermione skims the article looking for Scorpius' recount. “'Secrecy within the wizarding community is of utmost importance. Hence Muggle Studies is now a required subject for all seven years at Hogwarts. The program has been revised to not only discuss Muggle culture, but technology, accidental magic reversal, and memory charms. It’s a comprehensive program, developed by some of our most successful half-blood and muggle born alumni. Furthermore, I do believe these initiatives have benefitted the Prophet in more ways than one. How much more money are you making per issue between increase of advertisers and the development of closed, magical digital networks?’ Thank goodness he has your ability to be cool under pressure.”

Draco folds his paper over to look at her and can't help but enjoy how the morning light accentuates her beauty. He is pleasantly taken by surprise how she snuck in a compliment about him so nonchalantly. Hermione continues reading aloud, “‘I looked for the Minister for comment, but she was nowhere to be found.’ You don’t think anyone suspects where I, by that I mean we, might have been off to, do you?”

“I’ve always hated that twat, Percy. Made my life a living hell when he was prefect and Head Boy. Looks like he’s trying to play the pureblood card by the sound of it. Only associating himself with elder ministry officials, taking on his niece’s department, opposing you.” Draco tries to make sense of the article, and not get too upset, though everything about this article seems like a direct blow to him and his family. “Also, I’m sure there is nothing to worry about him not getting a comment from you. He probably said that because if he found you, he would have been booted out of the party. Hell, he probably got booted out after speaking to Rose and Scorpius, and he just made up the last part.”

“You’re probably right. I’ve never trusted Percy since he turned his back on the family after the Triwizard Tournament. Three full years he didn’t see or speak to his family and took the side of the old Ministry officials, thought he could work his way up. Now look where it’s gotten him? Nowhere. All ambition and no heart.” She is irritated and completely fired up.

“I don’t know how he was sorted into Gryffindor. He has the ambition and uses blood status and people as resources. That’s my house’s M.O.” Draco hates to admit it, but it is.

“Oh, he has loyalty, but not to the right people. He also has courage—courage to try to oppose me, but I’m going to knock his ass back down. I guarantee I will find a way to force him to retire from the Ministry before I’m out of office.”

“What if he tries to run for office after he finds out you are resigning?”

“I am endorsing Justin. He’s perfect for the job. No one is as hard-working or more knowledgeable about law and politics. He also has the upper hand over Percy. Don’t forget he has a title, money, status, respect in the magical community and the Muggle community—the Royal Family in particular—and he has delivered on all his promises. Percy is such a flip-flopper and doesn’t stand a chance.”

“You are quite sexy when you’re plotting. It’s true. Purebloods still love the gentry and Royals. When Justin started throwing his title around, he definitely gained more respect at school. Are you sure Justin wants the job?”

“I’ve been grooming him for over a year. He was the first person I told I was going to step down. Yes, even before Harry.” He looks at her incredibly alarmed that not even Harry Potter was privileged to this information for some time. “I already have lunch planned with Justin today so let the campaign begin!”

He laughs at her enthusiasm.

She starts flipping through the paper and finds the Food and Culture section. “Oh, it’s the kids’ pub!”

* * *

 

 **Pushing Pub Food Into the Future—without a Time-Turner**  
by Polly Chapman, Food and Culture Junior Editor for The Daily Prophet  
  
_When I received the invitation to Rose and Scorpius's engagement party,  I was excited for so many reasons. 1) Why did it take you so long to pop the question, Scorp? Oh, my god, you've been dating since you were fifteen.  2) The party was going to be at Malfoy Manor, and Mr. Malfoy was footing the bill, so you know it's going to be extravagant and the booze top shelf. 3) Rose and Scorpius were putting up most of Hogwarts Class of 2025 at their new gastropub and inn, The Rose and Scorpion. I have to admit; their names together are the perfect pub name. But, the young Mr. and Future-Mrs. Malfoy (Yes, she is taking his name! I promise she is still a feminist.) are only the proprietors. The Rose and Scorpion is the brainchild of the black sheep, or should I say, snake, of the Potter family, Albus. I was quite excited to see Albus as he had been traveling ever since graduation and only returned to Britain for family holidays. Rumor has it that he's been all over Europe, Asia, and even the States developing his culinary voice. We had a nice sit down to talk to him about international travel, magical gastronomy, collecting tattoos, and old times._  
  
Polly Chapman: Wow Albus. You look great. I haven't seen you in years. This look suits you.  
  
_He's grown his hair a bit longer on the top and keeps the back and sides short. The black fringe makes the green of his eyes even more striking, and his cheekbones and jawline are more defined. It's been around seven years since I've seen him last and it looks like he's grown a few more inches. He's wearing an old gray t-shirt, beat-up cuffed jeans, and brown lace-up boots. Colorful tattoos start at his wrists and go up past his elbows. It appears he has a few on his neck, too. He lights up a cigarette and leans back with a casual confidence. It's a huge departure from the lanky, timid schoolboy in the green and silver uniform._  
  
Albus Potter: Thanks, Polly. You look good too. I like the sapphire hair. Did you get ink done, too?  
  
_We put our arms out and compare. I have the outlines of my half-sleeve started, a simple lion on my wrist and a quote by his namesake, Albus Dumbledore on the other arm._  
  
PC: So which is your newest?  
  
AP: The snake and chef's knives after I finished at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and the beer stein after becoming a brewmaster in Munich.  
  
PC: So a lot of our readers wouldn't know this about you, but you were a bit of a late bloomer when it came to magic.  
  
AP: Yeah, I’m still not that great at Transfiguration and DADA, but I found my stride in charms, herbology, potions, and long-distance apparition.  
  
PC: Does it ever feel strange you didn't follow in your father's footsteps?  
  
AP: I use a lot potion making and herbology principles in my cooking and even some cocktails. So actually, me going into culinary is closer to the Potter lineage than the path Dad took. Over a thousand years of potioneers. The Potter surname derived from my family's excellence at herbology and potions. Everyone in recent memory knows James the Martyr and Harry The Chosen One. Fleamont Potter, my great-granddad, was the creator of Sleekeazy's. His creations built our family fortune.  
  
PC: Albus, I believe your Slytherin is showing. I had no idea, but then again, I slept through most of History of Magic. I was hopeless in potions and always tried to get you as my partner, but you had no part in it.  
  
AP: Rubbish! You're trying to make yourself sound good for your readers. You thought I was freak and didn't live up to "The Potter Name."  
  
PC: Not after fourth year. You became increasingly more interesting after the whole time-turner fiasco.  
  
_As we’re laughing, I have this feeling that there is more to this reconnection with Albus. He has a much more worldly approach to the use of his magic than most of us do. We head into the kitchen, and he's enchanted many knives and tools to take care of all the mise en place._  
  
AP: I'm a bit of a control freak in the kitchen. I've tried to have prep cooks before, but this is easier. So in the muggle culinary world, there is this concept of molecular gastronomy. It's where you use science and technology to create new cooking techniques. Well, I thought I could do that with magic and potions.  
  
_He speaks to me as he starts grabbing ingredients and assembling different dishes._  
  
PC: Your long-distance apparition also has a role in your cooking style, I presume.  
  
AP: Yeah, I'm able to source ingredients from most of the world without having to pay for the shipping. This bacon came from Wisconsin, in the U.S. I prefer the smokier quality of American bacon over British bacon. These lemons came from Spain. The cheese we were nibbling on earlier from Norway. The butter is from a co-op of dairies in rural France, and the bread from Paris. I try to grow as much of my veg and herbs here at the restaurant.  
  
PC: So how long did it take you to source all those items? Also, aren't some of your suppliers muggles? How do you fool them?  
  
AP: Do you see that little lorry on my desk in the corner? I expand it to full size so the muggles can load it. I drive away out of sight, then shrink it back and apparate away. But I got it all yesterday morning before the engagement party. I knew I would be way too hungover to try to get it all today. I'm still kind of hungover, to be honest. Okay, I have a few dishes for you to try. This is my take on a steak and mushroom pie.  
  
_It's bite-sized, and Albus unexpectedly feeds it to me by hand. The crust is buttery and flaky, and the flavor explosion is incredible._  
  
AP: You like? I make a reduction of the gravy and spherize it, so it pops in your mouth.    
  
PC: So that's how you did it.  
  
AP: Yeah, so this is Roast loin and confit belly of Tamworth pork, baked hispi cabbage, apple  & sage, trotter sauce. The magical aspect is I can temporarily suspend the veg from over-cooking. So when you bit into it, it's crisp, but then melts in your mouth.  
  
PC: Al, this is unreal. I'm losing all professionalism as a food writer. I cannot find the words to how good this is. I'm going to try. It does everything you said, it melts in your mouth, but the flavors are so distinct and don't meld. It's very homey but thoughtful.  
  
AP: Thanks, Pol. You've got a little bit there on the side of your mouth.  
  
_He reaches over and gently wipes the dribble of sauce off. The smells are intoxicating in the kitchen to the point I'm wondering what else he is brewing._  
  
AP: Last dish then you can try the cocktails. This is just a regular, old, sticky toffee pudding. Nothing magical about it other than where the ingredients came from. Would you like to top it with some homemade ice cream?  
  
PC: Yes, please.  
  
_I take a bite, and I am immediately transported back to the first day of term, but it's just a little bit different._  
  
PC: Albus, why does this taste like Hogwarts, but not?  
  
AP: You caught that. I got the recipe from the house elves in my last year and had been playing with it for a while. I kept wracking my brain on how I could put my spin on it. This dish is my homecoming if you will. Instead of cheap, shit brandy, I use a 25-year cognac. The vanilla is exotic, spicy, and well traveled. It came all the way from Mexico. Even the salt is from the Himalayas. I just wanted to show that even though something is familiar, it can grow into something unexpected and more refined.  
  
PC: If you cook like this, how are you still single?  
  
AP: Ha! Pol, you know I've always had the worst luck with girls. I always fall for the girl who is either out of my league, is after my name, or just bonkers. Maybe one day I'll find the right girl. You ready to try some cocktails?  
  
PC: Sure.  
  
_We walk over to the bar and on the shelves are spirits by both magical and muggle distilleries, hand-crafted potions, and specialty glassware._  
  
AP: I'm going to make you the Pygmy Puff first. So it starts with muddled strawberries and raspberries, add some orange liqueur, and shake. You then pour it into one of these glasses, top it with champagne, and here is the puff part. A drop of this mild aphrodisiac. Don't worry. It doesn't cause infatuation with anyone, just the effects. So the heart palpitations, the butterflies, you know, all the happy stuff.  
  
PC: Oh my goodness. I feel so light and happy. Just downright giddy!  
  
_At this point, I'm not sure if it's the alcohol and potion combo or what, but my palms are getting sweaty, and I can't stop staring at his eyes._  
  
AP: One last cocktail and then I'll give you the sobering solution if you need it. Something me and Scorp developed in our 7th year after getting pissed in Hogsmeade one too many times. But this cocktail is named Lion's Luck. It will give you momentary courage and a bit of luck but wears off in less than five minutes. Just enough time for you to ask someone out. It's a scotch whisky base, a syrup made from various herbs and fruit extracts, and a few drops of the potion. Enjoy.  
  
PC: Albus. I don't remember you being this attractive. A man who cooks is so sexy. Have you been trying to seduce me? Because all I can think about is taking you somewhere away from here — Oh my god, what did I just say?  
  
AP: Um. Yeah, maybe it wasn't a good idea for you to mix potions. I should probably make sure the bartenders advise against that. Do you want the sobering solution?  
  
PC: Yeah, That's probably a good idea.  
  
I took the potion, but everything I said was still on my mind.  
  
PC: Albus, do you want to go to dinner with me? There is this cool Peruvian restaurant in London  
  
AP: Polly, are you sure you’re sober?

  
PC: Yes, so do you want to go?

 

AP: Yeah. Sure. Are you putting this all in your article?  
  
PC: Yes. People need to know how fucking spellbinding this place is.  
  
AP: Are you allowed to swear in the Prophet?  
  
PC: Eh. They'll probably just put black boxes over it.  
  
-PC

* * *

 

Draco and Hermione laugh at how amusing the interview is. “I don’t know if this is an article about the pub and cuisine. It just seems like Polly and Albus are having a good flirt while he cooks for her,” Draco says, “Oh look how cute Rose and Scorpius are. And it appears that we made the paper.”

“What?” Hermione has a bit of panic in her voice.

“Here, read the inset,” Draco says as he points to it on the page

* * *

 

_**The Place to See and Be Seen**  
With the pub owned and operated by a collective of four of the most influential magical families, it's going to attract the powerful, up-and-coming, and trendsetting. The Goddess, also known as The Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, graced us with her presence at our alumni after-party. Wearing a chunky cable knit sweater, leggings, and riding boots, she was still the pinnacle of style and class. She and Draco Malfoy got into a friendly, yet highly competitive game of darts. It was a high-stakes game as many young ministry officials lost their week's wages when the Minister lost. She didn't seem too chuffed about it and shared a drink with the elder Malfoy after the loss. If this is the kind of crowd, the pub is pulling on soft opening, who knows if you'll even be able to get in once it's open to the public._

* * *

 

“You don’t think anyone will assume more happened do you?” Draco asks with a bit of worry.

“I am not sure. There is no mention of Ron, so they may. Who knows how far gossipers read into things? I guess I’ll find out. It’s time for us to go. Rita will be at my office in twenty minutes.” She kisses him goodbye before heading to the nearest fireplace. “Good luck today. I hope you can stop by my office. Oh, and I’m going to yoga after work, so feel free to meet up with friends.”

“Thank you, now go. I’ll see you later.” He smacks her bottom as she heads out of the solarium. He’ll need to remind himself that he can’t touch her bum so freely in public.

Jollie pops in, to begin clearing the table, “Master Draco, did you and Minister Granger enjoy your breakfast?”

“It was delicious, thank you.”

“Will we be seeing the Minister more often?”

“I hope so, Jollie. With any luck, I’d like her to become the lady of the manor.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?” said the house elf very sarcastically.

“Jollie, when have you known me not to be sure of myself?”

“In the case of Minister Granger, I would say consistently.”

He chuckles and says, “I'm giving you a raise. Just for the fact that you keep me humble.”

“Thank you, sir,” she says with a smile and pops away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	14. Rumour Has It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Minister for Magic, Hermione no longer has to deal with examinations, Dementors, Death Eaters, or blood prejudice. What she has to deal with is the messy world of politics, blackmail, backstabbing relatives, maintaining her personal life, all while maintaining her ideals and goals for the future.  
> 

 

## March 2030

Hermione arrives directly into her office. For her security and convenience, she doesn’t need to pass through the main entrance in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Before she even has a moment to put down her things, she receives a buzz from the intercom.

“Minister, are you here yet?” Her assistant asks.

“Good morning, Allie. Just arrived. I was just coming out to greet you.” Hermione replies to the woman.

“It’s your daughter; she’s here to see you.”

“Oh, then send her in.”

Rose has opted not to wear heels today out of fear that she will topple over. She drags her feet and looks up at Hermione with dark, black circles under her eyes and a sickly pallor. Her eyes meet her mother’s, and croaks, “I feel polluted.”

“What on earth happened? You were fine when I left the pub.”

“Albus. Stupid, stupid Albus. He made us drink all of his potion-laced cocktails. There were just too many combinations that even his sobering solution didn’t work. Scorpius and I were vomiting all night. Albus is now all stressed out reworking his drink recipes. Stupid Albus.”

Hermione reaches over to her intercom, “Allie, can you please find Rose and I a pot of coffee, a jug of water, and some saltine crackers?”

The speaker crackles back, “Yes Minister.”

Rose sprawls out on the sofa with a pillow over her eyes. “Did you read The Prophet today?”

“Oh, the part where you drunkenly insult your uncle? When Albus cooks for a girl who fancies him? Or the part where Draco and I were seen sharing a drink?”

Rose points her finger and makes a big circular motion, “All of that. That’s why I’m here. I know what’s-her-face will be here soon. I need to clarify things. At least Scorpius sounded good. He always sounds good. My beautiful, intelligent, Slyther-nerd.”

“Honey, are you sure you are capable of doing a rebuttal interview? As adorable your pet names for each other are, you still sound wankered to me.”

The door creaks open. Allie has a tray with coffee, and a familiar figure creeps right behind her.

In the most obnoxiously chipper tones, their visitor says, “Good morning, Minister! Oh, and how nice is it to see you, Miss Granger-Weasley! I have a two-for-one special right now, don't I?” 

Allie puts down the tray and mouths, "sorry," as she excuses herself. 

Rita Skeeter, once the most notorious reporters, is now Editor-in-Chief for the Prophet. While she doesn't write as often as she once did, but always made time for Hermione. Rita knows an invitation from the Minister means a fabulous story, and she would gladly come out of retirement to write.

Rose rushes to the coffee, but remembers to offer it to their guest first, “Some coffee, Ms. Skeeter?”

“Yes, please. Two sugars and lots of cream. I like my coffee like liquid dessert.” The thought of syrupy sweet coffee causes Rose lurch; the bile rising in her throat. After making the reporter’s coffee, she pours a cup, black, for herself and her mother. “It has been an _inspiring_ Monday morning. It seems that this weekend was very eventful for the Grangers, Weasleys, Potters, and Malfoys. Polly was apparently up all night and couldn't wait to write her article—turned it in at 3:00 am. We usually would have held that story for a few days for editing, but it was far too juicy. Our very own writer falling for the subject of her article and also covering celebrity sightings! I didn't see any mention of your husband in the article, Minister. Oh and the future Mrs. Malfoy looks ready for a family feud. It was a good news day, indeed.”

Hermione inhales heavily, trying to remember meditation exercises to curb her anger. “Rita, you know why you’re here. I want to tell you that I’m not running for re-election and can even throw in a bonus scoop; there is someone I want to nominate and throw my support behind.”

“Really? Now this got more interesting. Go on.” The older woman’s attentiveness is so overwhelming to the point that is unsettling.

“The Honourable Justin Finch-Fletchley, Esquire, champion of muggle-borns and half-bloods. Born into the English gentry, fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and the most extensive formal education of anyone in the magical world. Let us not forget, personally guided the Prince and Princess of Wales through the transitional process when the young Princess received her acceptance to Hogwarts. I think you'll recall Justin and the Prince were classmates at Eton after he left Hogwarts. Justin has been my personal legal counsel and advisor for over twenty years. I’ll let you research all the good he has done. He’s wealthy and well-connected enough to appease the purebloods and hardworking and proud of his muggle heritage to win over everyone else. He’s the perfect candidate,” Hermione sounds pleased to throw her support to her friend, and she can see Rita’s creeping smile.

“Well, Minister. Not only are you ready to step down, but it looks like you have done your homework and maybe a little grooming?” One only maintains a career as long as Rita has by being brilliant and having excellent reasoning skills. The truth of the matter is, she is so despised because she is so good at finding out everyone’s secrets—though she may exaggerate them at times.

“Yes. Second order of business. You will hold the announcement of my divorce until after the wedding. When you finally publish the article, you can say that Ron and I legally separated in March and the divorce was finalized in April. Reasons for not announcing the divorce are personal. As to grounds for divorce, irreconcilable differences, and divisions of properties were amicable.” Rose is slightly nodding off on the couch, which Hermione catches. She’s trying to do all the talking to keep all of Rita’s attention on her.

“That’s fair. Considering how much you are already giving me as far as coverage. But let’s just say, you have a momentary lapse in judgment—” Rita gives Hermione and Rose a knowing look and a downright evil smile creeps across her face. “—You're spotted out with another man, and there is speculation you are unfaithful, when all the while, you're already divorced. Will you give me permission to run the article?” Rita officially has the upper hand. Hermione thought she was going to battle with an armada, but Rita brought a tidal wave. “I say this because Polly wasn’t the only Prophet staffer at the party last night. We had another junior reporter. Also, one of Rose’s friends is a Witch Weekly freelance writer. I heard things, minister. Nothing confirmed, but sources say there was some very suggestive body language between you and the elder Mister Malfoy and that you left the pub within minutes of each other.”

Rose’s eyes grow as big as saucers. It never occurred to her how many of hers and Scorpius’s friends were in journalism. Hermione swallows hard and seriously thinks about what Rita said. With her chest pounding, she takes a deep breath, exhales and says, “Yes, if we need to run the article sooner than later, so be it. I will discuss with Ron and the rest of the family when we should push up the announcement. Even though our divorce proceedings are still underway, we are legally separated. That could cover for any indiscretions if or when they happen.”

Rose senses trouble and grabs her by the arm and takes her to a corner of the office. With their backs now to Rita, Rose throws up a silencing charm and says, “Mum! Are you sure? Holding the story is the whole reason for this meeting. ”

Hermione glances back at Rita. The reporter looks annoyed that she is being denied what is potentially valuable information. “Rose, what are my other options? We have to tell the rest of the family and make this announcement. No one has been surprised yet—by anything. At least having this meeting with Rita, we can give her all the information without it getting muddied up by multiple sources.” Hermione now feels sick knowing how vulnerable she is. Rose cannot hide the scowl on her face and just nods in agreement with her mother and casts the counter charm and make their way back to their seats.

“I think you are making the best decision. As a consolation, you can have the first view of the proof before print. We can even make the changes to the non-disclosure agreement.” Rita sounds victorious. “And what would you like me to say about you and Mister Malfoy, if and when the time comes you need a statement to be released? Rose already put it on the table yesterday.”

Hermione looks at her daughter, and they both put their heads down. “The relationship did not begin until papers for legal separation were filed. That is a fact, and you can have it verified with my lawyer. As for the details of the relationship, it is very new, and please respect our privacy.”

“That’s all you’re going to give me?” Rita seems a bit disappointed in the very diplomatic answer.

“That’s all there is to tell, Rita. When we make our first public appearance as a couple, I’m sure you’ll be there.” Hermione feels like she’s already given enough information.

“Oh, I will be. Now, this business with your brother-in-law’s position against yours and your daughter’s work, and the many investors including the Potters, the Malfoys, and other prominent wizarding families?” Rita cranes her neck over to look at Rose.

Before Rose can speak, Hermione interjects, “My suggestion is The Prophet host a town hall debate. Let Percy and Rose prepare statements and research while taking questions from the audience. You will have an actual political correspondent moderate, not the sorry excuse of a reporter who sneaks into parties he is not invited to and obtains quotes from the hosts—who should have been entertaining their guests—not dealing with guerilla tactics from your staff.” Hermione now stands up and walks intimidatingly closer and closer to Rita. Hermione can take an attack against herself, but will not stand to see Rose cornered, especially when she hasn’t prepared. Rose can usually handle herself, but this was an unusual circumstance. “When that scoundrel said I 'could not be reached for comment,' he’s lucky he didn’t find me. I would have hexed him into next month. If I discover more of your staffers using such deplorable tactics, I will take it upon myself to deal with them. If a fifteen-year-old version of myself was capable of putting you in a jar, just imagine what I can do as a fifty-year-old.” Hermione's heels clack on the floor as she makes her way to her desk where Allie has already placed the contracts Justin sent over. She waves her wand over the NDA to make the necessary changes discussed and hands it and a fountain pen to Rita. “Are we in agreement about one, the end of my term, not running for reelection, and endorsement of Justin. Two, not to release the statement of my separation and divorce until I approve when it can be printed and read the draft. Three, my relationship with Draco Malfoy will not be discussed in detail and will not be made public until I deem it necessary. The simple facts I gave you are enough to appease the gossipers for now. Four, you will propose the debate and not ambush my family in a non-work function. A social event is NOT the time and place for a discussion of this magnitude regardless of how influential the families are. And lastly, you are still invited to the wedding and have exclusive rights to publishing and coverage of the event. It would be remiss of you to ask any questions of our guests or make statements other than how in love Rose and Scorpius look, how beautiful her dress is, the creative and stunning decor, how delicious the food is, and how the room was so full of love. It is their wedding. The story will be about them. Are we clear?”

A strange sense of admiration wells in Rita and she says, “Minister Granger, I am proud to see the woman you have grown into. It’s been over thirty-five years since I wrote my first article about you, and you have been a worthy challenger and collaborator.” Rita Skeeter signs the contract gladly. The women shake hands and have an agreement. Although there is tension in the air, there is also respect. “Rose, I hope you learned a thing or two from your mother. She knows to always have her wits about her, no matter what the situation.”

Rose’s eyes narrow and look as if she is about to lunge at the reporter. It seems she received some traits from her father, after all. Hermione puts her arm out to stop Rose and speaks up, “Thank you, Rita. Have a lovely day.” She shoots a look back at Rose, and her twenty-five-year-old daughter shrinks back to being a school girl. Rita leaves the office and shakes off the shivers she felt from Hermione’s stare toward Rose.  

Hermione rubs her head trying to come down from that encounter. She goes to her small refrigerator and pulls out a sports drink for Rose, then goes to her desk and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen. Hermione hands the bottle of pills and the bright red liquid to Rose. With a very puzzled look, she cocks an eyebrow at her mother.

“Sometimes, witches and wizards are looking for the easiest way to deal with things. Right now what you need is to rehydrate and take a simple pain reliever. You don’t need to concoct a specialty draught.” Rose heeds her mother’s advice and takes some pills and starts drinking the sugary substance, which is surprisingly refreshing. Muggle remedies have worked in the past. Might as well. “Rose, you need to watch your outbursts, and even if you feel like absolute rubbish, you still have to push through. I know you can do this.”  

“You’re right, mum. Thanks for covering for me.” They give each other a big hug, and suddenly there is a huge commotion at the door, and Scorpius falls through the door and almost onto his face. Rose runs over to him in a panic. “Scorpius! What’s wrong?”

“Looking for you. Just lost my balance. Stupid, stupid Albus. I can’t function today.” Yes, Scorpius has the appearance of being a confident, put-together Malfoy, but inside, he’s a wonderfully endearing super nerd. Hermione grabs another sports drink. She shakes her head wondering what these kids got up to last night. At least they showed up to work on time.

“Rose, help Scorpius to the couch.” With a wave of her wand, Hermione closes and locks the door. She’s had enough interruptions for the morning. She hands a bottle to Scorpius and says, “Drink this. It will make you feel better. I promise.”

“What is this?” Scorpius asks. Hermione reminds herself that Draco and Astoria probably didn’t expose him to muggle products, especially junk food and soft drinks.

“It’s a muggle sports drink with electrolytes that will help you rehydrate faster.” He guzzles down the contents of the bottle so quickly; Hermione instantly knows that this child is severely dehydrated. “Tell me how you feel.”

“A little better. I guess I was in need of something to drink that didn’t contain alcohol or any more potions. Hangover remedies: Muggles 1, Wizards 0.” Scorpius’s brain is slowly lifting out of the drunken fog. He has tried to hide it from everyone, but since he first picked up a book about Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s adventures, he’s looked up to Hermione because she was the clever one. Books over brawn were more his speed, too. “You’re the best, Hermione.”

Hermione messes up Scorpius’s hair, and Rose laces her fingers with his. “Okay, you two. Get out of here and go to work and don’t forget to drink more water, coffee, and sports drinks. I have things to do.”

—xoxox—

Shortly after Rose and Scorpius left her office, an origami crane flew onto Hermione’s desk. She picked up, knowing who it was from; feeling like an anxious schoolgirl. Draco used to send these types of notes in school, but she never received one herself. Harry received a few. They usually pertained to Quidditch or something else to get Harry worked up. She may have reported him to the teachers on occasion for passing these notes. So strange that something Hermione found so annoying is now giving her butterflies. She carefully unfolded it and read the message.

—xoxox—

_H,_

_It looks like they are keeping me here all day, but if all goes well, all the written examinations can be completed today and the oral tomorrow. They confiscated my mobile to prevent cheating, hence the school note. I was hoping to see you after lunch, but I no longer think that is a possibility. I'll try to stop by your office before the end of the day._

_-D_

—xoxox—

Draco’s attempts at being discreet by only using their initials, make her giggle at the sweetness of it all. While Hermione values her privacy, she has never a fan of dishonesty. Though the most important people in her life know about the divorce and Draco, she can’t wait to tell the world. Her mind keeps telling her that it has been less than three days, but her heart tells her it’s been a lifetime. She’s almost tempted to go to Harry’s office and use the Pensieve to find out exactly how long this has been building — but sometimes using magic takes the wonder away. She doesn’t want to think and over analyze the situation as there is a force compelling her to let things play out.

Her assistant, Allie, did as she requested and cleared her calendar for the day. Hermione would usually have Allie make her calls for her and set up meetings and appointments, but as everything she needed to do today was incredibly private, the Minister handled things herself.

She scrolls through her mobile and finds Justin’s number and gives him a call.

“Hello, there!” Justin’s cheeriness is welcome after the tense meeting with Rita, “So how did it got with Skeeter?”

“Well, it didn’t go as planned,” Hermione tells her friend.

“Oh?”

“Well, it looks like Draco and I weren’t as careful as we thought we were. Apparently, our body language was very suggestive during out game of darts last night.”

“Oh, Hermione. Is this about the pub article?”

“So you read it?”

“Well, Jezza and I were flipping through the paper today, and the Food and Culture section is his favorite. I had no idea Scorp, Al, and Rosie were opening up a pub.”

“Neither did I. They shocked me last night. They had been working on it on their own. Of course Ginny and Draco knew about it.”

“They are a funny pair, aren’t they? Who knew they would become such good friends?”

“Ah, yes. It happens when your boys are best friends, and you share a strange connection like being Lord Voldemort’s personal plaything,” Hermione shakes her head at the absolutely bizarre bonding experience Draco and Ginny had on their road to friendship. “So what were your thoughts about the article?”

“One, I’m very intrigued by Al’s menu. It sounds divine. Homey yet elevated. Two, I wouldn’t be surprised if your nephew shagged that girl after the interview—”

“Justin!”

“You asked my opinion,” he pauses, and you can hear his smile through the phone, “but as far as you and Draco, I wouldn’t have read into it if I didn’t know what I know. Maybe people won’t look into the fact that you weren’t there with Ron, maybe they will. Jez didn’t even make a comment. Then again, we couldn’t see your interactions. So how many people were there?”

“Forty–Fifty or so? But a good deal of them work for the Ministry and a few are in the media.” She sighs knowing that she had been reckless. “Draco and I had been quite flirty with each other. I think it might have been quite obvious. He looked so cute in those black trousers.”

“Malfoy does have a nice bum. And yes, of course, I _have_ noticed. To be fair, I am a little excited this finally happened.”

“What do you mean, _finally_?”

He laughs and says, “Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. Come on. You two have been fighting it for _so long_. The sexual tension was just so enjoyable to watch.” Justin is no longer the professional legal counselor guiding her through her divorce, or the future Minister for Magic, but more like a chatty girlfriend. “You know the reason why straight women are friends with gay men? So they can talk about fashion, theatre, sex, and penises. So dish, how is he?”

She sighs and says, “He's magnificent.” They both laugh hysterically until Hermione regains her composure. “Okay, enough about Draco. We have more important things to talk about—like you taking my job. Let’s meet at the club in about 30 minutes for lunch. I’ll have them reserve one of the private rooms. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”

—xoxox—

They meet at the members only Phoenix Club. It was one of her and Harry’s favorite places because it is private and the other members also enjoy their privacy. Some of which include other ministry officials, professional Quidditch players, famous authors, musicians, and the like. It was the antithesis of a pub; they never had to worry about getting bombarded by guests who wanted a handshake, autograph, or photo. Harry has always been a bit uncomfortable being easily recognizable. Ever since the first time he walked into the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid while on his way to buy supplies for his first year. Hermione also became leery of crowds and recognition around their fourth year. After the Battle of Hogwarts, it just got worse. Clubs like this were a haven for the very private Harry and Hermione. Ron hated The Phoenix Club because of its exclusivity and edge of snobbishness. It reminded him of The Slug Club all over again. Whereas Harry and Hermione prefer the ability to choose when and where they would make public appearances, Ron walks the streets freely and pops in and out of any pub and shop he wants. Honestly, it seems as if he was happy to receive the attention.

Over lunch, the Minister and the lawyer discuss his ascension into the world of politics. Justin is more than ready and had proven himself in so many ways. His practice would be in good hands if he were to get elected. He has three partners and two junior partners, all of whom have similar, rigorous muggle and magical education, though his is the most prestigious of the lot.

They began to discuss PR strategy.

“So Justin, how do we want to introduce you to the world?” Hermione is curious as she knows that this is one of those make-or-break decisions, “Should we go with the Prophet and have them do a profile on your, or reach out to one of the new, younger, independent magazines?”

“Good question. With more and more wizards and witches using muggle technology, who would have the widest reach?” Justin mulls this idea over in his head, “Yes, The Prophet is without a doubt, the most popular media outlet with the older wizards, but with a majority of the wizarding population now under the age of 75, it might be best to go with a younger outlet who can shake things up. Believe it or not, I’m a huge fan of what Lorcan Scamander has done with The Quibbler or should I say, Q. When he took it over from his grandfather, it became this beautiful documentarian style of magazine with gorgeous photojournalistic images. Also, there is a huge push toward activism that I especially connect with.”

“Oh, you are so right! As much as I love Luna and her father, it was never as credible until Lorcan stepped in. I loved that he separated the Quibbler into two magazines: Q and B. Q for Questions and B for Beasts. Genius! The Quibbler used to be such a catch-all.” Hermione truly admired the changes her friend’s son had taken into bringing validity and creativity to the family’s publication. “Do you remember the special editions commemorating the hundredth anniversary of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?”

“It was so beautiful. Q was focused on Newt’s life, and B featured all of his discoveries. I can’t believe Lorcan did all of that while he was still at Hogwarts,” Justin comes to the realization he has made his decision.

“I know! So we are in agreement? Q it is?” Hermione asks Justin for confirmation.

“Yes. We’ll give them a call,” Justin tells Hermione, “but first, I need a campaign manager. They would have to be someone affable, yet firm, well-connected, yet down-to-earth or could at least be perceived as such. They also had to be creative, yet logical and incredibly organized.”

“Goodness, Justin. Not asking for much, are you?” Hermione laughs at his long list of requirements and can only think of one person. “Have you thought about Saoirse Olivier? She handled public and media relations for the Quidditch World Cup. Oh, I’d almost forgotten she handled WizComm.”

“Oh, did she?” Justin asks, “It certainly couldn’t have been easy dealing with the launch of the first magical telecom company. That most surely takes talent and innovation.”

“That it does.” Says Hermione matter-of-factly, “And of course, she managed my re-election campaign.” Hermione throws in a wink for good measure.

“Done. Let’s hire her and have her call the young Mr. Scamander. We should have plenty of funds to get started.” Justin is beginning to feel confident with how the election will run. “We will also need to loop Cho into the mix to plan any fundraising or social events connected to the campaign.”

“Excellent, but don’t monopolize all her time,” Hermione says cheekily, “she has the wedding of the year to plan.”

“I promise Rosie and Scorpius will still get time with their planner. Cho does have a staff, you know,” Justin says with a wink.

“Good boy. Now, as far as endorsements, obviously you have me backing you,” Hermione says quite proudly, “I am fairly certain Harry, Rose, Scorpius, Draco, and Ernie will throw support your way. The media will take a bit of effort to get. What about Princess Charlotte? What is she, a fifth year now?”

“I believe so. It’s a bit unorthodox for the Royal Family to endorse candidates,” Justin is well versed in royal protocols and is unsure Hermione’s suggestion will pan out. “They appoint but don’t endorse. I’m not sure if there is a precedent for endorsement of magical politicians.”

“Hmm…good point,” Hermione knows that the Princess would have put Justin on the map, but some traditions are harder to change than others. “Well, we can make sure that she and the rest of the Royal Family are invited to all your engagements nonetheless.”

“Excellent idea. Now, I will work on a few other endorsements such as your brother-in-law, Bill. He would be a beneficial supporter being the vice-president of Gringotts. He has seen first-hand how valuable the economic initiatives have been. Hopefully, family tensions or loyalty wouldn’t play into his decision.” Justin looks back at Hermione with his eyebrow raised.

“Don’t remind me. I have to break the news to everyone, and it’s not going to be easy. But we are already ahead of the game. I don’t want to jinx this, but I think this is in the bag.” Hermione slams her hand on the table with excitement and makes Justin laugh.

They left the lunch satisfied with their meal, and confident this election will result in a landslide victory. By June, Justin would be actively campaigning, and Hermione would be transitioning to step down from her post in August. She was thankful that Ministry campaigns only lasted two months as opposed to the upwards of two years between primaries and general election in MACUSA elections. She’s not sure about the States, but in Britain, there is only so much mudslinging witches, and wizards can stand before their opponent gets hexed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	15. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is interrogated by her hairdresser and former housemate. Then a flashback to an unsolved crime in Knockturn Alley after the War. It’s a lighter and shorter than my usual chapters, but I have a heavy one coming up.

 

## March 2030

 

She still had four hours until her meeting with Harry. Draco was allowed to text during his lunch break, and it looked like she wouldn’t be seeing him until after five as well. So she had called Dean to see if he could squeeze her in.

The renowned stylist gladly canceled his existing appointments to get his hands on Hermione’s “skunk stripe.” He told her to come around to the back of the salon as it had a private entrance for their more recognizable clientele.

_After the war, Dean Thomas went through quite a bit of soul searching. He, like Hermione, Harry, and Ron was on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters during the war. Between the running, being held captive, and fighting in the final battle, the events made him want to retreat to muggle life for a while, living with his mother, stepfather, and half siblings. His sister was going to the Sassoon Academy studying to become a stylist and needed a male model to practice on, and he reluctantly agreed. Once there, he was impressed with how creatively liberating hair design and styling was—and how many beautiful women and men there were around him. He ended up going through the course himself and much to his sister’s shock, finished the program quickly and received offers at the most sought after salons._

_Dean worked on developing his style and craft at the muggle salons, but at home, worked on magical methods to speed up the process and client experience. Once he had perfected his methodology, he decided to set-up shop in Knockturn Alley—where the Ministry offered grants to new businesses willing to help revitalize the neighborhood._

_Many of the shops that had once sold dark artifacts were out of business. Though the culprit was never caught, an overzealous post-war celebrator had committed arson via Fiendfyre, only targeting the shops with the darkest of objects. It must have been someone incredibly talented and focused on keeping the fire contained, and either mischievous or remorseful. There was a shortlist of suspects, but the Ministry never pursued the case further._

_Once word got out that Dean was opening up shop, many of his old friends came out of the woodwork to help him, including Seamus. Dean had been playing the field dating different men and women, mostly muggles, but when Seamus opened his mouth to say hello to his old friend with that adorable brogue, Dean was done. Maybe part of why Dean ran back to the muggle world was him trying to escape the inevitable. It took them a while to finally confess their feelings, but they eventually did. Seamus now runs the books and allows his husband to be the creative genius he is._

Hermione sits in the chair feeling a bit nervous. She hasn’t changed her hair in years. In a way, she thought her hairstyle and color would be iconic, like Anna Wintour, and keep it the same while letting everything else about her personal style evolve. According to Dean, there is only one Anna Wintour and only one Hermione Granger.

“FINALLY!” Dean exclaims as he walks to the back of the salon. He gives Hermione a kiss on the cheek and a big hug. He’s ridiculously giddy, and she begins to relax. Dean would never do anything terrible or not suited to her style. “Oh, I love that emerald top you’re wearing. It completely brings out your eyes. I’m going to play with some color that will help with that too! Hermione, I don’t know why it’s taken you so long to come to me. I thought you would have after I intensified Ginny’s red or when I lopped off that physical embodiment of Draco’s daddy issues. You know I incinerated the ponytail in my hands immediately. Oh, his face. Adorable.”

Hermione laughs, imagining those beautiful bluish gray eyes in shock and horror. “Oh, Dean. I would have loved to see you make Draco squirm. And you’re right; Ginny does look fantastic.”

“I know she does. Almost good enough for me to want to snog her again—almost.”

“Don’t let Harry or Seamus hear you,” Hermione gives him a wink, “Alright. Let’s do this. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m going to cut the length a bit, not too much. A long bob.” Dean begins to explain and tucks her hair in a bit so she can start imagining it. He then casts a glamor so she can see it for herself. “I’ll also use a semi-permanent relaxer, so you don’t have to apply that potion daily. Your waves will be softer and more manageable. Then for the color, we’ll take your ash brown about two shades lighter and add a bit more warmth—think bronze. Then we’ll add some golden, not blonde, but golden, honey-colored highlights. The highlights will help hide any grays that grow in between visits. What do you think?”

“Let’s do it,” Hermione is excited to embrace the new look and the new chapter in her life.

Dean gets to work. He starts with the shampoo and cut. Most of this is done without the use of magic so that he can work with more precision. The color aspect is where most of the magic comes into play. The colors are enhanced with potions to speed up the process without damaging hair, and Dean enchants several brushes to get her hair coated quickly. Once done, he engages in chit chat. “Though I am elated to see you, why now? Why not when I begged you to get your hair done before the party?”

She takes a deep breath; she’ll divulge some information, but not all, “I’m ready to start a new chapter in my life. I’m making the announcement I’m not running for re-election.” That’s a good one, she thinks to herself.

“No, that’s not it. Hermione, you need to realize that stylists are basically psychotherapists with more creativity.” He looks down at her hand and doesn’t see her wearing her wedding band. “You need to be more clever than that, love. You’ve already taken off your rings, so this is a divorce haircut. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. You have no idea how many breakup makeovers I do.”

She sighs with relief, but it’s becoming more and more apparent that she isn’t even making an attempt to be discreet about the divorce. “Thank you, Dean. We’ll be making it public after we tell the whole family. It’s just past due.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I’m excellent at reading body language. I’ve seen you and Ron over the years. It looked so, so—platonic.”

“Well, I’m moving on, and I’m happy,” Hermione says not letting too much on.

“Good for you. You seem to have an extra spring in your step. Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?” he says with a smile and wink.

Hermione can't help but feel that Dean knows more and is egging her on. She flippantly ignores the comment and asks, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes. Yes, I would,” the former Gryffindor says to the minister earnestly.  

“Sorry, but there is nothing to tell—at the moment.” She would love to divulge the whole affair. Dean would be one of the people most excited by the truth. Draco had made amends with Dean about the events that transpired in his home all those years ago and became a silent investor in the salon. They had slowly built a friendship, but Draco has never asked for a repayment. Just a lifetime of free haircuts for Scorpius and himself.  

“Politicians. Always the veil of secrecy and deceit,” Dean says with a pout and crosses his arms.  

Hermione bites her lip and shows a devilish smile, “Will this be much longer? I have some work to get back to and have a meeting with Harry.”

“You’re just about done, Minister. Let’s go to the bowl and wash this out, then a bit of a blow dry and styling.” Dean looks at her and knows she is evading his comment.

Dean is excellent with his hands, and the scalp massage feels heavenly. Once back in the chair, Hermione deflects every conversation about herself and keeps Dean talking about he and Seamus, his clients, and their secrets. She’s learned a thing or two about manipulation without being dishonest.

She faces him as he does the final touches. Dean turns the chair around, and she takes herself in the mirror. Her hand claps over her mouth in disbelief. The woman in the mirror looks about 15 years younger. She sheds a tear and Dean begins to speak, “You know, we all grew up way too fast after that war. People like you and Harry ran straight from battle to becoming adults hell-bent on changing the world. We missed our youth. This right here is why I’ve been trying to get you into my salon. You’re not the only one who’s had this reaction. There is nothing wrong with trying to regain our youth when it was so cruelly stolen from us. To some people, it’s just a hairstyle. To me, it’s helping my friends find what they have lost.”

“Dean, that is so prolific and poetic.” She gives him a huge hug. “No wonder you’re so damn expensive. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing this time. You just need to promise you come in more often and give me details about the divorce.” Dean says with a mischievous smile.

“Deal.” She squeals as she gives him another hug, thanking him for helping her find a piece of herself.

 

* * *

## July 1998

It is almost three in the morning on a balmy summer night when a hooded figure makes his way down Knockturn Alley. He looks around to see if there is anyone who would spot him. A dark wooden wand is pulled out of his robes, and he whispers, “ _Revelio_.” Only a few mangy alley cats and rats illuminate, revealing their location. He then casts another spell, “ _Revelio populum dormientes_ ,” and multiple green orbs appear outside the windows of sleeping residents.

The figure places a bag down on the cobbled street and unzips it. Contained in the black leather duffle were almost 100 butterbeer bottle caps. “I hope I made enough,” the figure whispers to himself. Also in the bag is a large black potion bottle containing a sleeping draught. The mysterious wizard pulls it out and removes the cork. With a wave of his wand, the potion is levitated out of the bottle in long ribbons and then vaporized into a black mist. The wizard flicks his wand once more, and the cloud dissipates and makes its way into the homes illuminated by the green orbs. He sighs and wipes the sweat from his palms onto his robes. His heart pounds as he has never done magic on this large of a scale before.

“ _Praeter locomotor_ ,” the man in black whispers, sending all the sleeping witches and wizards to float out of their homes, levitate above the alley.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

The bottle caps rise out of the bag and tuck themselves into the hands of the unknowing sleepers. Almost instantly, the pajama-clad wizards and witches disappear.   

After every single slumbering resident has escaped via portkey, the mystery wizard fans himself. It’s much too hot to be wearing such heavy robes, but he’s trying to keep his identity a secret. “One last thing,” he says to himself. “ _Revelio magicis_ ,” this time red orbs float in front of the shops containing dark magic. There are so many more shops than he was hoping. “Damn.”

He pockets his wand, and two fireballs ignite in his hands and directs them towards Borgin and Burkes. The flames look as if they are engulfing the storefront, but the fire dies out quickly. “Shit. Fiendfyre it is.” It takes his wand out once again. This curse requires a powerful stance and flourishing wand work, so he has no choice but to remove his cloak—but before he does, he points inside the hood and performs a few glamour spells to disguise himself. The figure now has a square jaw, rounded nose, and shoulder-length wavy black hair.

The young man takes a wide step, inhales and exhales deeply, whips his wand over his head then points it at the intended target. Beastly flames burst from the tip of his wand—eagles, chimeras, snakes, and a single dragon. The shop that once peddled the darkest of artifacts crumbles in the cursed fire. The flames melt glass and metal, loud whistles and screams pierce the young man’s ears as the magic in those objects is essentially dying. Black smoke fills his lungs and he goes into a coughing fit—the momentary distraction is enough for him to lose control of the fire. The fiery creatures turn and make their way towards him. He panics. He doesn’t know what to do and fears the end is near, until he spots the dragon. The mystery wizard points his wand at the dragon, and it responds. The beast begins to devour the other flaming creatures until the fiendfyre is the solitary winged champion.

Now that the wizard has control of the fire, he sends the dragon in and out of the shops illuminated by the red orbs until all the dark magic is eradicated from the area. The young wizard is exhausted, and he has finished just in time. Dawn is breaking, and whoever is out there will catch him if he doesn’t get out of there soon. He bows to the dragon, and it extinguishes itself. There is rustling coming from down the street, and the voices seem to be approaching him. He throws his cloak back on and disapparates.

—xoxox—

“Would you look at this!” Lucius Malfoy slams the Daily Prophet down onto the breakfast table. “Hundreds—no—thousands of years worth of artifacts destroyed! No witnesses. Almost all of Knockturn Alley is nothing but soot.”

His wife takes the newspaper off the table, “Let me see that. ‘There are no casualties as all the residents were portkeyed to a field outside of Hogsmeade Village. Aurors at the scenes say that this was a well-calculated crime. The arsonist had taken utmost care to ensure innocent witches and wizards were not hurt as they were put under a deep sleeping potion and transported to a location far from the fires. The businesses targeted were all known proprietors of questionable magical objects and practices.’ Well, well. It looks like we have a vigilante on our hands. Apparently vanquishing the Dark Lord and putting all those associated with him on trial isn’t enough. Now we have marauders attempting to destroy all magical history. Draco, what do you think?”

Draco had fallen asleep at the breakfast table and was snoring heavily. With his hair tousled, he didn’t look like his usually well-groomed self.

“Draco!” His father yells across the table. Draco still did not wake. The elder Malfoy takes the paper from his wife, rolls it up and walks over to their son. Lucius whacks Draco upside the head with the newspaper. “Draco! Wake up. We are trying to have a conversation with you.” Lucius and Narcissa no longer possess wands as terms of their probation, so getting Draco’s attention would need a more physical approach while the Malfoys await their trial. Draco, on the other hand, has permission to use his wand as he has been volunteering at Hogwarts during the reconstruction.

The disheveled heir rubs the back of his head and looks at the paper his father had thrown on top of his toast and eggs. “What’s this?”

“Read the headline, dear,” his mother says to him sweetly then shoots daggers at her husband.

“Arson on the Alley. That’s catchy. But no one was hurt. What’s the big deal?” Draco asks much to his parents’ horror.

“The big deal is that the attacks on pure-bloods and our old ways have begun. We lost, and the mudbloods and blood traitors want us to know it,” Lucius spat.

“I think you are looking way too into this, Father,” his son replies, “All of these shops were about to undergo investigation. It was in the paper last week. Suddenly there is arson, and everyone is safe, and all the evidence is destroyed? It’s incredibly questionable if you ask me. Sounds more like insurance fraud and evading inquiries from Ministry—not an attack on old magic.”

Lucius and Narcissa look at each other and then to their son in complete shock. He makes a lot of sense. “That is a very interesting theory, son. Quite plausible. It seems as though your mother and I are still a bit defensive about our situation. It’s a good thing that you still have a good head on your shoulders,” Lucius says to Draco as he just shrugs and nibbles his toast. “But Draco, I must tell you, your butterbeer habit is getting out of control. All that sugar can’t be good for you. I’m sure it keeps you up at all hours of the night.”

“You’re probably right, Father. Frankly, I’m getting a bit sick of it,” Draco says with a crooked smile from behind the newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	16. The World at Large

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long workday of meetings and appointments, Hermione jumps in head first into the world of international politics with Harry and Draco.
> 
> Introduction of new canon magic references from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
> 
> Warnings: themes of war, PTSD, survivor’s guilt

 

## March 2030

Once she gets back to the office, she sifts through a pile of papers and replies to all the messages. She gets to one that takes her back down to earth.

The letterhead reads:

—xoxox—

_From The Office of Harry James Potter_

_Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Hermione,_ _  
_ _Just received intel. It’s as we feared. I’ll brief you later. Make sure you have plenty of whisky and those cigars we like._

_Harry_

—xoxox—

The wave of euphoria she has been riding the past few days comes crashing down. She knows exactly what this pertains to and does _not_ want to deal with this. This will significantly affect the diplomatic tour to Europe, and she's not sure Draco will still want to come along.

The intercom buzzes, “Minister, are you available to receive Mr. Malfoy?”

She replies, “Junior or Senior?”

“Senior.”

“Let him through.” Seeing Draco is most welcome, but breaking this news might be a bit tricky.

He opens the door, and his mouth drops. He quickly shuts the door behind him. “Your _hair._ ”

She smiles as he walks around to behind her desk. He swivels her chair around, bends down and presses his lips against hers. The hours apart have been brutal. She whispers, “You like it?”

“Dean?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“When I saw him last week, he said that you and I were at the top of his list for makeovers.” He lets out a small chuckle before kissing her again. “But I love this. It’s like I have a blonde and a brunette. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“You’re too much.” She grabs his tie and starts pulling him closer but hears the intercom again.

“Minister, Mr. Potter is here for your weekly meeting.”

She begrudgingly lets Draco go and replies to the intercom, “Let him in.” Hermione then looks to him and says, “you’ll need to be part of this meeting. It’s about the diplomatic tour. Go sit on one of the sofas.”

Harry walks into the office and sees Draco, “Oh, hey Draco. Good to see you. Since you’re here, we need to discuss the tour, but you might want to wipe the lipstick off your face and adjust your tie.”

Hermione shoots Harry a look as she sets out the whisky, glasses, ashtray, and cigars. Draco raises an eyebrow at the setup. “Harry likes to pretend he’s Winston Churchill when we discuss international relations,” she says with a wink.

“Okay, there’s a lot to cover, so I’m not going to dance around it,” Harry begins. He drains his glass and takes a few puffs of the cigar. His body looks tense as he hunches over, reading over the documents. “For one, Draco, I’m going to put this out there, and we won’t need to talk about it again. You and Hermione, I saw it coming for years. The fact that it took Hermione so long to divorce Ron and the fact that you two became an item so quickly after—yeah not so thrilled about the timing. But all of you are my friends, and I only want your happiness. There. Done. That’s about as sappy you’ll see me.” Harry and Draco give each other approving nods, and Hermione puts a hand on Draco’s knee.

“Now back to business,” Harry tells them both, “Draco, I can’t even tell you how relieved I am that you volunteered for this tour. I have something in mind for you other than translation, but I’ll get to that later.” Draco and Hermione look at each other with puzzled looks.

Harry continues. “Now we all know that we have been helping the British Government for the past fifteen years by placing undercover Aurors within the military trying to quell various terrorist insurgencies. We did this because we feared that there might be a magical sect of I.S., which ended up being true. We received reports a few months ago in hostile areas of Syria and Iraq, the dark wizards had been snapping the wands of witches and denied young witches from receiving an education, magical and otherwise.

“The school in Kurdistan, don’t ask me to pronounce it," Harry stares at the foreign word in his document, "was the last magical stronghold and haven in the region for witches and young children. It’s been functioning as a refuge for families, while still operating as a school, for some while. Well, it came under heavy attack this morning and is now under control of The Blessed Dark, as they are calling themselves,” Harry heaves before delivering the next bit of news. “James was supposed to be posted there with his squadron. Fortunately, he was home for the engagement party and set to return tomorrow. He’s not in the right place to return just yet and is dealing with survivor’s guilt, something I know about all too well. Ginny left work early today to be with him and take him to counseling.” Harry starts absentmindedly rubbing his scar, though there is no pain.

“Oh, James,” Hermione says sympathetically. “How many did he lose?”

“About ten of his friends. It’s was a mixed squadron with witches and wizards from all over on a peace-keeping mission. The report says it was three Americans, two Canadians, one Australian, two Japanese, one French, and one Brit. The rest were able to apparate with at least two to three children.”

Draco asks, “Do we know who the British auror was?”

“Young muggle-born witch named Arden Jones—healer, a year younger than Hugo and Lily. I wouldn't be surprised if Hugo knew her,” Harry says sadly.

“The name sounds familiar. I’ll break the news to Hugo after work.” Hermione takes a big gulp of whisky to relax the tightness in her throat as she tries to put a face to the name. 

“We have a bigger problem. We have potentially thousands of witches who are vulnerable without a way to project their magic or protect their children. With them all at very heightened emotional states and no way to control magic, they can potentially hurt themselves, others, and out the magical community. This is what The Blessed Dark is counting on. They want to turn the children into Obscurials.”

“Obscurials, as in what Grindelwald was trying to do with children? They want to torture magical children into becoming ticking time bombs? It’s almost impossible to calm down a child in that state or separate it from the obscurus,” Draco says with almost a panic in his voice. He swallows hard and says, “Most of the time, the only way you can stop the obscurus is by killing the child.”

Hermione covers her mouth in disbelief and says, “Draco, how do you know that?”

“Professor Binns was a shit teacher,” Draco rubs his face thinking about the gravity of the situation, “history of magic isn’t just a subject taught at school. For purebloods, it’s our history. The summer between sixth and seventh year, when I was stuck at the Manor with the Dark Lord, I read everything I could about Grindelwald. If Dumbledore could defeat him, maybe there was some clue as to how to defeat him. One of the things the evil bastards had most in common was they had no qualms about sacrificing children or using them to fight their battles.” Harry and Draco lock eyes and a mutual uneasiness washes over them. Hermione notices and squeezes Draco’s hand and reaches over for Harry’s.

“This is terrible news. All three of us in this room know how being wandless in the middle of war makes you feel unstable and vulnerable. How did it get this far? I thought we were providing aid. Why are they getting so strong?” says Hermione. Though the ministry supplies the assistance of Aurors during her tenure, the conflict hasn’t come close to home. Of course, this all comes as she is getting ready to step down.

“Magic, religion, misogyny, hate, and self-righteousness are a dangerous combination. I want to say that this is worse than our war. It’s spread so far, and there isn’t a leader. I don’t even want to mention the atrocities they have taken against women and girls.” Harry swallows hard thinking of their war. It seems like child’s play compared to what these people are going through— being attacked by both muggles and wizards. “Those who still have their wands are producing portkeys as quickly as they can and are arriving at Beauxbatons for processing. I already spoke to Scorpius and the rest of the governors to find out how many students Hogwarts can accept, but then we have the issue of where to house their parents and the younger children. Hermione, I wouldn’t suggest taking any action in regards to refugees until we develop a department to process the displaced. We should probably have all the interviewers gifted in Legilimency and use Veritaserum as a last resort.”

Harry continues the briefing. “In light of everything that happened, expect the economic summit to be pushed up and to discuss how we will aid and accept refugees. Hermione, I imagine you’ll have to sit down with the Prime Minister for that.” Harry pours himself another drink.

Hermione starts rubbing her head thinking about this new predicament. Draco’s hands find their way up to her shoulders and neck and start massaging out the tension. She puts her hand on his, so thankful he is there. “You’re right, Harry. We can’t be hasty about any decisions. Tomorrow morning, let’s meet again and get all the heads of the departments together and figure out how we will handle this before I go to the Prime Minister. I will have to offer him something good in trade for all of those visas. Now, you said Draco fits into this equation?”

Harry speaks, “Draco, have you ever noticed that Hermione has never once had Auror escort her entire time being Minister?”

Draco thinks long and hard about it, “Come to think about it, the only times I’ve seen you with Auror escort was when you were out with the children at events.”

“It's because I told the Auror department I don’t need a bloody escort. I challenged them and said if you have a single Auror who disarm me, I’ll accept protection. I sent ten Aurors to the hospital that day,” Hermione says with confidence. Harry rolls his eyes but is quite proud as he taught her defensive magic.

“Well, this now poses a problem for me,” Harry interjects. “I received intel that the diplomatic tour and summit could be a target. The magical governments of Europe and Britain have always embraced gender equality. We have so many women leaders, and this fact doesn’t sit well with the Blessed Dark. I can’t just increase security as it will raise alarms that we have been tipped off. Hermione’s reputation also proceeds her. I imagine if there were any attacks to be taken against her, it wouldn't be by use of force or dueling; it will be under the guise of curses hidden in gifts or poison.” Draco’s ears perk up as he now knows where this is going. “Draco, I’m not going even to pretend that you aren’t talented. You’re an excellent duellist and can recognize dark objects, and potions just on smell alone. How are your skills at occlumency and legilimency?”

“It’s been a few years. I could use a refresher.” He attempts to be humble. Though, having Harry compliment his abilities is something he never thought he would hear.

“Harry, get to the point.” Hermione is getting anxious.

“Essentially, Hermione, I want your entire team to go through basic Auror training and sharpen some of their specialized skills. No one would expect an assistant, press secretary, or a translator/businessman to be highly trained defenders. Of course, I would still put some of my aurors undercover.” Harry seems to have thought about this thoroughly, but he is unsure of how Draco is reacting. “Draco, I know you probably offered yourself up to be Hermione’s translator as a way to spend time with her in beautiful countries. I’m asking a lot of you. You can still back out and I’ll wipe this conversation from your memory.”

Draco doesn’t even hesitate. He missed out the opportunity to protect her once; he’s not going to do it again. “I’m in. I can’t start any training until I have finished all my language proficiency examinations.”

Hermione beams and tightens her grip around their interlaced fingers. 

Harry says, “That’s fine. We still need to figure out how to modify the program and set up the specialist training. Hermione, just to let you know, you're not excused from training. Also, before the tour, I’m making you all take your examinations in your work attire. Hermione, do you think you can duel in stilettos without breaking your ankle or change stances in that pencil skirt?” She winces a bit knowing what Harry is going to say next, “That’s what I thought. Go through your wardrobe and plan on wearing lower heels or flats and wear more flowing skirts or trousers in the event you’ll have to fight.”

“Harry, I have state dinners to attend and will be wearing gowns.”

“Then brush up on your wardrobe transfiguration spells. If it were me, those fancy state dinners are when you are the most vulnerable.”

She knows Harry is right and can’t argue that. “Is that all for now?”

Harry says, “Yes. Merlin, this isn’t what I wanted to deal with on a Monday. Can we just drink for a little bit and talk nonsense before I check in on Ginny and James?”

“For a little bit,” Hermione says, “I’m heading to yoga. Which is much needed after that conversation, then a bit of shopping, and cleaning house.”

Draco refills everyone’s glasses and says, “Oh? What are you going shopping for?”

“Just a little retail therapy. Maybe some new bedding or anything else that tickles my fancy,” Hermione answers.

“Do you have any plans, Draco?” Harry asks his former childhood rival.

“I’m going to The Phoenix Club tonight for drinks and dinner with Blaise. Not until seven, so I have some time to head home and freshen up.”

“Oh, I was just there for lunch with Justin,” Hermione says after a few puffs on the cigar.

“Hasn’t Blaise been living as a muggle model the past few years? I remember seeing him on a billboard a couple of years back.” Harry recalls his shock when he saw his former classmate clad in nothing but underwear and oil on the side of a building in Downtown London.

“Ha! Yeah. As he told me, he couldn’t use his magical education and had no muggle schooling, so he used his best assets—his arse.” Blaise was one of the few people at school who was always able to make him laugh, “I’m pretty sure he used some magical influence to get the first couple of gigs, because as fit as he is, in the modeling world, his rise was meteoric. He is now on marriage number three, and Vivianna is only thirty-years-old. It’s going to be hard to believe, but all his wives have been muggle lingerie models.”

“You’re kidding!” Hermione exclaims, “Blaise was just as bad as you were with only wanting to date purebloods!”

“Seems like he, and I, both changed our stances on that matter,” Draco leans in to give Hermione a kiss while Harry rolls his eyes in disbelief.

“So what is he up to nowadays?” Harry interrupts

Draco catches the hint and says, “He’s not modeling anymore and is now behind the camera as a photographer. Blaise reached out to me for the first time since the war a few months ago, and we’re slowly reconnecting. It seems as though he is ready to rejoin our world. I suspect it has something to do with his son.”

“Sounds like an interesting life he’s lead. Tell him I would love to pick his brain over drinks.” Draco is surprised Harry would offer. “As someone who grew up in the muggle world, then spent my adulthood in the wizarding world, I’m curious how it was for someone who experienced the opposite.”

“I would like to join that conversation, oh and to ask him how he developed his fetish for muggle lingerie,” Hermione says with a wicked smile as she squeezes Draco’s hand.

“Alright, the tension between you two is too much for me. I need to go home and see my family. You know this secret isn’t going to last, right?” Harry gives them with a somewhat stern look. “I’m just saying. You might want to bump up the divorce announcement and possibly make this relationship public. It’s better to deal with the backlash when you’re honest than deal with the speculation and gossip.”

“Damn it, Harry. You’re the second person who has told me that today. You think so?” Hermione looks to Draco for approval.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” Harry replies. “Draco, you need to know something. I have never in my life seen Hermione be so sloppy and obvious. Last night at the pub, yes Albus told me, but others as well, her getting a fancy new haircut, and her dressing a tad bit sexier today. I don’t know what you’ve done to that brain of hers, but it’s not working right. You either need to help her tighten things up, or come clean.”

“When did you become so astute, Harry?” Hermione asks Harry, slightly annoyed at his perception.

“Hermione, he’s always been that astute, you’ve just always been more clever. Sorry.” Draco now gives Harry a compliment, and the men share a nod and wink.

“Don’t you two get all chummy and gang up on me.” Hermione shakes her head. “Let’s go. I can’t be in the office anymore today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	17. 24K Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a Slytherin reunion—so much swagger or so they think. Oh, silly boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to have one chapter where we see Blaise and Draco being guys. Also, last chapter got a little heavy. Some levity was necessary.

 

## March 2030

The two old schoolmates meet at the bar of the exclusive, members-only club, which has a very different vibe at night than it does in the day. Everything about it oozes prestige, creativity, style, and discretion. The design is much more modern than most wizarding establishments. The walls have sleek perpendicular molding and are painted with a black matte while mirrors and metal accents adorn the walls instead of historical portraits. The club wants to subtly remind the members there was no need to look into the past as they were the ones rewriting history. Its white coffered ceilings were designed to absorb sound so conversations could always be clear, distinct, and private. When you walked onto the white marble floors, your shoes made loud clacking noises that signal guests of your entrance. The backsplash of the bar was crafted by a skilled artisan, who designed a large, emblazoned phoenix embossed onto copper. Throughout the club are various furniture pieces in pops of red, green, gold, or blue—a playful nod to all the houses. This establishment was created for the generation who has risen from the ashes. You could tell that the old guard would not fit well in a place like this. Most of its members were born during the First Wizarding War and after. There probably isn’t a single member over the age of sixty. The silent war in the wizarding world was no longer between purebloods and those with Muggle blood; it was now between the young and old.

“I'm glad we could finally do this, Draco. It has been a long time.” Blaise Zabini, still very handsome with a well-groomed beard that only has a few white hairs, and his head is shaved to the skin. But his appearance has changed in other ways; Blaise is so physically fit, it makes Draco a little sick. This must be what he needs to do to keep up with a wife twenty years his junior.

Draco sips the last of his whisky then says, “Much too long. If you’ve finished your drink, I think our table is ready.” As the two middle-aged men walk through the club together, eyes are all drawn to them, including many young women. Somehow being in each others presence has always brought on a bit of healthy competition accompanied by confidence and swagger. Draco politely nods to some of the members he recognizes, but Blaise takes a bit more charming approach and winks. They are escorted by the host to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. From their table, they have a vantage point and can see the whole of the dining room, yet it is secluded enough that they can keep their conversations private.

“This place is swanky,” Blaise says to Draco as he still looks around, taking in all the details of the club. “How long have you been a member?”

Draco has to think about this; it’s been a while, “I’d like to say about eight or nine years. That’s about the time I started becoming an investor and delving into the world of international business.”

“Ah, so when you started coming out of hiding?” Blaise is no stranger to disappearing from the wizarding world.

“Yes, I guess you can say that. When your son is best mates with Harry Potter’s son, it makes coming out of hiding a little easier. Well, you’ve been hiding ever since the end of the war. I was surprised to hear from you a few months back.” Draco tries not to sound too excited, but he’s happy to have another friend who has experienced the same kind of backlash he received. It’s not easy being on the wrong side of history and not have someone to talk to. “So are you finally ready to come back to our world?”

“I have to. My son. He already turns the cat into a balloon on a regular basis and shatters the china when he’s cross. I was hoping never to come out to my wife, but I had to.” There is a tremor of nervousness in his voice. He’s not sure of how much the world has changed. Will his son receive prejudice for his actions? The young boy may be persecuted for his father’s hypocrisy—once obsessed with pureblood idealism, he married three different muggle women and now has a half-blood child. Draco had mentioned things were difficult for his son at first. That was almost fifteen years ago, hopefully, by the time Blaise’s son was ready to go to school, his past will be forgotten.

“Your wife didn’t know you were a wizard?” Draco asks, quite shocked he could keep such a huge secret from his spouse.

“Well, I’ve been living in the muggle world for almost thirty years. Didn’t think I ever needed to. I wasn’t planning on ever having children; then Devin came along.”

“I can’t believe you have a two-year-old. Mate, you’re way too old to be changing nappies.”

“I can’t believe your son is about to get married. To Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger’s daughter, no less.”

“Yes, it’s all surreal.” Draco hides his face behind the menu as he can feel himself flush at the sound of Hermione’s name.

“Thanks for inviting us to the party, by the way. Vivianna was thoroughly impressed, and this is coming from a woman who has cat walked in London, Paris, Milan, and New York. She is no stranger to glamor.”

“Well, I was glad to have you in my humble abode,” Draco's boyish charm resurfacing.

Blaise scoffs. “Humble my arse. How much did that party cost to throw in your castle?”

“Too much. Thankfully I only have one child.”

“So will you be helping with wedding expenses too?”

“I don’t need to. Granger made some smart investments and her book royalties. Her ministry salary just covers her shoe fetish. Weasley also has his company, the one that started as his brothers’ joke shop, but then it rolled out all those home products. They’ve made a fortune.”

“Interesting. Now tell me how you know about Granger’s shoe fetish?”

Draco forgot how astute Blaise is and has to come up with something. “Scorpius says Hermione is a bad influence on Rose’s shopping habits.”

“You just called her Hermione and not Granger.”

“Well, we have been friends over the past ten years. I couldn’t call her Granger forever.”

“Right.” Blaise has always been a highly suspicious person. It doesn’t help that Draco’s fair skin reveals flushing so easily.

The waitress arrives just in time and asks the gentlemen for their order.

“I’ll have the watercress salad and the salmon. Oh, and another gin and tonic.” There Blaise goes ordering something relatively healthy. It must be the secret to his physique.

“I’ll take the potato leek soup and the steak frites, rare. Please just grab any of the scotches, no, bourbon, out of my locker and bring the whole bottle. Thank you.” The waitress jots everything down and walks away.

“Hungry are we? That’s an awfully hearty meal.” Blaise is somewhat envious of what Draco ordered for himself.

“I’m sorry, some of us don’t have thirty-year-olds we are trying to keep up with.” _Some of us need more sustenance than salmon and greens to keep up with a real woman_ ; Draco thinks to himself.

“There’s that stupid smirk again, Malfoy. You’re hiding something. I promise I’m going to figure it out by the end of this meal.” Blaise has an uncanny talent of reading people. Although it’s been years since he and Draco have spent time with each other, they still have the same mannerisms and tells.

Draco winks, “I’m an open book. You just have to get through all the chapters first.”

“Very funny. So I talked to Parkinson at the party.” Blaise enjoys watching Malfoy roll his eyes at the sound of his ex-girlfriend's last name.

“Yeah, so who has the higher number of divorces now, you or her?”

“She does. Just finalized number three. You know she’s never gotten over you.”

“That’s ridiculous. It was never going to work out. She was far too needy. I can’t believe I spent two years with that girl.”

“Oh come on. She worshiped the ground you walked on, and you loved it.”

“Maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want someone who worshiped me. I wanted someone to complement and challenge me.”

“Astoria was that person?”

“She was. She was kind-hearted, understanding, challenged me, my family, the pureblood system. She picked up all my broken pieces and made me a better man.” It has been awhile since he has spoken about Astoria. His heart hurts a bit and almost feels guilty about moving on but he reminds himself of what Scorpius said. His wife wanted him to be happy.

“Astoria sounds like a good woman. I only knew her as a kid before the war. I guess we all grew up pretty fast after that.”

“We did.”

“If I only knew she made you change that much, I probably would have reached out to you sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” sadness evident in his voice. 

“Come on," Blaise says with disbelief. "Me, tell the Prince of the Purebloods I married a muggle?”

A wave of regret comes over Draco when he thinks about the kind of child his father created. One that was so hateful, it prevented one of his closest friends from keeping their friendship alive. “We truly were unpleasant children, weren’t we?”

“Unpleasant? We were downright cruel little shits.”

“Accurate. Well, I’m not that person anymore and am happy to have my friend back.” 

Blaise reaches over and punches his friend, brotherly acknowledgment. 

“Me too. So back to your love life.” Draco was hoping to avoid this topic. Blaise begins his interrogation, “So you have been a widower for what over ten years?” Draco nods in response, “You haven’t seen anyone, at all?”

“No one, until very recently.”

“Draco Malfoy is secretly seeing someone?”

“Not too loud,” He casts a silencing charm as he doesn’t want anyone to hear this conversation. “Yes, please keep this between us. She’s legally separated from her husband, and divorce proceedings are ongoing but is technically still married. It’s—well—a bit sticky.”

“A married woman? Draco Malfoy, you dog.”

“It didn’t start out like that. I wasn’t pursuing her—well maybe a little. We just had a few drinks, catching up, and the alcohol took over. I told her I’d been harboring feelings for her for a very long time; then she revealed she had been too. We tried to exercise restraint, but that proved impossible, and now it’s moving faster than a Firebolt, and honestly, I’m okay with it.”

“Catching up? So I know this person, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Was she at the party?”

“Yes.”

“But I didn’t see you cozying up to any women at the party.”

“Why would I be cozying up to a married woman in the middle of a party?”

“Fair point.”

Hermione’s ears must have been burning at that point because a text came through. Draco looks down at his mobile. “Excuse me for a second I need to read this text.”

—xoxox—

_**Hermione: How’s dinner with Blaise?** _

_**Draco: Going well. Nice to catch up.** _

_**Hermione: I went shopping after working out and found something that was absolutely nostalgic, that I had to buy it for you.** _

—xoxox—

She then sends him a photo of herself standing slightly bent over the sink, her legs crossed, and wearing a sheer white thong panty and black heels.

He grinds his teeth and crumples the white tablecloth under his hand.

She then sends him another this time of her blowing a kiss and barely covering her breasts with the other arm.

—xoxox—

_**Draco: How are you getting these angles?** _

_**Hermione: I am a witch with the ability to levitate objects.** _

_**Draco: Right.** _

_**Hermione: Come over after. I put a disillusionment charm on the house. Just apparate directly onto the landing, and no one will see you. Password for the door is Amortentia.** _

—xoxox—

Draco can feel the heat on his face. Game over. Blaise is going to figure this out.

“ _Accio Draco’s mobile_.” Blaise catches the summoned device looks at the photos and is completely gobsmacked. “Your affair with a married woman is the Pride of Gryffindor, Brightest Witch of Her Age, Heroine of the Battle of Hogwarts, Head Girl, Youngest Ever Minister For Magic, _Hermione Granger_. Mmph. That arse and hips. Legs too. She’s filled out those curves in all the right places. Ooh, even better than potions class. She looks like this at fifty? Can I forward these to my mobile? You know I’ve always had a thing for her.”

Draco reaches over the table and snatches the mobile back out of Blaise’s hand like a petulant child. “No. I don’t like to share my things. And she turns fifty-one in September. Remember, witches age slower than muggle women.” Draco enjoys rubbing it in. Hermione would murder him if she knew Blaise was looking at her photos, but then again...she knew this would happen. She intentionally sent him photos during dinner, wearing undergarments so similar to ones he recalled from potions. The ones that made both he and Blaise lose their cool. _That minx._   

“Hey, Loverboy! Snap out of it!” Blaise snaps his fingers trying to wake Draco out of his trance, “You said you told her that you had feelings for her for a long time. How long are we talking? Since school?”

“Yes.” Draco recalls the conversation in his library, “Blaise, I sounded like such an idiot. I told her everything. How I was so cruel to her because it was the only way for me to hide my real feelings. I couldn’t let my family down. Live up to being ‘The Prince of Purebloods’ as you called it. I put it all out there. She forgave me. For everything. EVERYTHING.”

“She sounds like a saint. So when we were in school, you said she was completely off-limits to us, it had nothing to do with her being Potter’s best mate and being a muggle-born. It was more like a ‘if I can’t have her, you can’t.’”

“Basically.”

“You’re a bastard, Draco. A hypocritical, lucky bastard.”

“Ah, Blaise, I have missed our friendship. Looks like food is here.” He waves his wand and removes the charm. The server brings them their first course and checks to see if they need anything else, then leaves. “I never told you this, but I kissed her.”

“Draco, by the look of those photos, you did more than kiss her.”

“No. sixth year. Before Christmas. We kissed, but she made me erase her memory.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No,” Draco looks at Blaise, annoyed by the comment, “it was because of who I was and who we were associated with. Also she was sort of seeing someone else at the time.”

“Whoa! What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me any of this? But I thought she and Weasley didn't become a thing until the war. Who was she seeing?”

“Doesn't matter,” Draco’s ears are turning red, and redirects the conversation, “Hermione and I are together now and it was a long time coming.”

“Nice change of subject there, Drake. So you say this is moving fast?” Blaise says between bites of his salad. “Like how fast.”

“Her lawyer is trying to fast-track the divorce. I’m accompanying her to Europe as part of her diplomatic team, and I asked her to move into my London home when she steps down. Wait, almost forgot. _Muffliato_.” He recasts the charm. “She's stepping down from being minister. It’s going to be announced in the paper tomorrow. But, she’s not afraid to be with me or it potentially damaging her relationships or reputation. This is the difference between them and us,” by this, he’s referring to Gryffindors and Slytherins, “What’s in her heart, she believes with such conviction. She believes in us.”

“I never thought I would see the day Draco Malfoy would be reduced a puddle of sap by some woman.” Blaise thinks back to the young man whose shoulders would go frigid the moment he was done with a girl. _This guy. Who is this guy?_ “Granted, that woman is Hermione Granger. How did Weasley let that one go? I would have spent every waking moment trying to keep that one pleased.”

“That is exactly what I intend on doing.” Draco regains a bit of his composure and his self-assurance, “She said it was because she married her best friend. He doesn't like the person she’s grown into. Doesn't like her friends. But apparently, there’s also the issue of no passion, no desire, no sex. There must be something seriously wrong with him.”

“Maybe that tosser was actually in love with Potter but married Granger because his sister got to him first.” They can’t stop laughing. The two men had that theory about Potter and Weasley for years. “So is your pet name for Granger still ‘Filthy Mudblood’?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I would never call her that again, but—she is _filthy_. I swear she is _so_ eager. I don’t think she’s ever been satisfied.” Draco knows he needs to stop, but there is something about knowing that Blaise had a thing for Hermione, he can’t help but brag.

“You’re killing me. You sure you don’t want to share.”

“Positive.”

“And you’re sure you’re not just some rebound shag.”

“Of course I’m not. I just told you that she’s putting everything on the line.”

“But your magical cock has made girls say and do stupid things before. Are you certain she’s in love with you and not the sex?” Draco goes absolutely colorless. He hasn’t thought of it that way. “I didn’t think you could get any whiter. Draco, are you okay?”

“I need to make a call. I’ll be right back.” He grabs his drink and walks to one of the arm chairs in the lounge.

“Yes?” Hermione seductively answers the phone.

“I need to know why you want to be with me and you can’t say anything physical.”

“Draco what is going on?” Hermione can hear the panic in his voice and is scared.

“I know it’s only been a few days, but we’re already making these big plans. I just need to know that I’m not your rebound shag.” He steadies himself before he divulges more about his affections, but Hermione cuts him off.

Draco can hear her sigh on the other line and she asks, “Do you know what Kintsugi is?”

“The broken Japanese pottery mended with gold?” Draco was ready to give this massive proclamation of his love for her, but she is asking him about art. ‘What is going on in that woman’s head,' he thinks to himself.

“You were pottery that was carefully shaped by your parents, and they thought they had created a perfect version of you. Then you were broken countless times, but you’ve been mended and are more beautiful than how you started. You embraced your flaws and experiences then fixed them and healed instead of letting it destroy you. I also have cracks. Over the years I saw hairline fractures become deep fissures. I kept trying and trying to repair them by myself but didn’t know how until you came along. You are my gold.” Hermione’s analogy says more about her feelings and understanding of him than a long-winded list of attributes.

“I’m in love with you. You know that, right?”

“I do, but don’t expect me to say anything over the phone. I can be there in around twenty minutes. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” His heart is lighter, and he makes his way back to the table. Blaise has eaten half of his meal.

“You look like you have a little bit more color back in your face. So the call went alright?”

“More than alright. She’s coming here.” He waves his wand over his food to warm it back up and voraciously starts eating. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever stressed out this hard over a woman before. Not even my first wife.”

“You just said, ‘my first wife.’”

“No I said, ‘my wife.’”

“No mate, you said _FIRST_ wife. Do you already have marriage on your mind?”

“Of course not,” Draco flat out lies.

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing how the two of you interact with each other. Damn, that steak looks good. I’m so fucking tired of eating fish.”

“Why do you only eat fish?”

“Viv and the trainer. All I want is a steak and chips.”

Hermione arrives a lot sooner than expected. That new haircut, with its golden highlights, takes him by surprise again. She changed into a chic but casual, green maxi dress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. She stops at the host stand to tell them to move Draco and Blaise to a private room, and she will be joining them for dinner. She then walks over to them, “Come on boys. We’re going to my private room.” She kisses Blaise on the cheek, he then puts his hand on the spot and rolls his eyes back in a ridiculous mocking fashion, as if he has been waiting years for that. “So nice to see you, Blaise. Draco.” She kisses him on the cheek but very close to the corner of his mouth. He can’t help but put his hand on the small of her back. The frustration that they can’t be open about their relationship is starting to build. They give each other a knowing look and start heading toward the private room, all while his hand is still on her back.

Once they are behind closed doors, Hermione and Draco face each other. He drags two fingers from the very low neckline, between her cleavage, up her neck and tilts her chin upward until their lips touch. It’s a quiet moment of lips and tongues gently brushing each other. They lose track of how long they’ve been kissing and completely disregard the fact that Blaise is in the room. She finally releases him and says, “I love you, too, my beautiful idiot.” It’s not the exact words he wants to hear, but it sums them up. He kisses her again.

“Ahem.” Blaise reminds them he is in the room. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it. You look good, Granger.”

“You do, too, Zabini. But I saw that poor excuse of half-eaten salmon. Would you like a real meal?” Hermione teases while taking her seat. Draco tucks her in and takes the seat to her right. “Are you both still hungry?”

“Starved,” says Blaise.

“I could still eat,” says Draco.

“Should we do the garlic and herb rack of lamb, roasted potatoes and root vegetables, spinach salad, and then some trifle? I think I have a red in my locker that would be an excellent accompaniment to this meal.”  

“That sounds perfect,” Draco kisses Hermione on the forehead as she rings the bell for the server. She gives their order and reminds him to add Draco and Blaise’s previous order to her tab. The server has already brought a complimentary bottle of champagne and three glasses. He pours it for the three guests.

Blaise can’t help but see how different Draco is in her presence. He’s happy and relaxed. “Well Minister, thank you for dinner. I have to say, leadership, exclusivity, sophistication, and _green_ look good on you.” Blaise is overtly making suggestions that she may have picked up more than her fair share of Slytherin traits.

“Don’t worry. I’m still fierce, brave, and loyal. But we’re adults now. Can’t we strive to be the best versions of ourselves—intelligent, courageous, hard-working, and ambitious without constraints of Houses?”

“Agreed,” Draco raises his glass for a toast, and the two follow his lead. “To old friends, to new friends, and to being adult enough to let go of the past.”

—xoxox—

The rest of the dinner with Blaise is beyond fun. Without any of the rivalries or prejudice of their youth, they discover how well they all get on. Blaise is sharp and doesn’t hold back any of the punches taking the mick out of Draco, or Hermione for that matter. But she gives it back to him faster than he can dish it out. The new couple loved hearing how Blaise found himself in Muggle New York trying to figure out how to act like a muggle and that he blamed all of his social missteps on being British.

When the dinner is over, Hermione and Draco are eager to spend time alone with each other—a fact that Blaise finds quite obvious and has to remind them repeatedly that he is still present.

The trio leave the club at the same time. Draco and Hermione must pretend once again they were just friends meeting for dinner.

“Let’s do this again soon,” Blaise tells Draco and Hermione.

“I would love that,” says Hermione. “Next time I’ll bring Harry and Ginny.”

“Oh really?” Blaise says while Draco smirks, “The Chosen One wants to grant me with his presence.”

Hermione laughs at the comment, “Harry is actually really intrigued with your life as pureblood hiding amongst muggles. It will be fun. I promise.”

“Only if Ginny agrees to sign my vintage Harpies calendar and swimsuit issue of Quidditch Illustrated,” Blaise jokes.

Draco replies, “I think that can be arranged. Also, you won’t be disappointed. She’s still fit.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Hermione looks at Draco and shakes her head.

“I’m holding you to it. Time to head home. Bye.” Blaise turns his heel and disapparates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	18. Both Sides Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Hermione realizes that her relationship stands no chance of staying secret and will have to tell the family about the divorce much sooner than expected.

## March 2030

Draco and Hermione head to the Minister’s Mansion. They barely make it through the door when he pins her up against it. “Finally alone,” he whispers into her ear. His fingers walk down the side of her dress bunching the fabric.

“I know,” she says with a smile, knowing the tension that has been building all day will finally be released.

“We won’t have any visitors, will we?” He asks as he gets a good look at the sheer white panties in person and smiles in approval.

“No. That’s why I put a password on the door and turned off any incoming floos,” she bites her lip as their noses touch. “After all, didn’t Harry just say that my security is of utmost importance?”

“Absolutely and I will gladly protect this body of yours,” he presses his lips up to hers.  

“You mean, 'be my bodyguard?'”

“The way I said it sounds sexier.”

“Ready to take this upstairs?” Hermione asks getting rather impatient.

“Not yet,” he says with mischief in his voice and turns her around. Draco quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers with one hand. The other hand is still grasping the fabric of her dress. His thumb hooks into the thong and pushes it to the side. “You have no idea how many times I have dreamed about you in sheer white panties—I am going to enjoy this.”

She replies him, “You better.” Hermione lets out a snicker knowing that her plan to exploit Draco’s teenage fantasies had worked. Finding knickers so similar to those from her youth was serendipitous.

Draco teases her for a moment by just letting skin brush against each other, then with a forceful thrust, her playful laughs turn to moans of delight and pleading. He begins to get frustrated by the ridiculous amount of fabric that seems to keep getting in the way, so he takes his wand from his pocket and severs the skirt off the dress.

“Hey!” Hermione can barely make words, “I just bought that!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” he growls as he enjoys the freedom to move, grab, smack, and caress. Always one for banter, Draco says, “There are not enough hours in the day to do all the things I want to do to you.”

“I know,” Hermione cannot get over how he makes her feel. Every time they are together, he unlocks another side of herself that has been longing to be freed. She lifts her arm and presses it against the door to steady herself as Draco’s movements become more forceful. As his body pounds against hers, she’s afraid she might hit her head against the door, so she rests her forehead on the back of her arm. The small piece of fabric still between her legs doesn’t chafe but adds to the sensation and applies pressure in all the right places.

After one more smack on the bottom, Draco turns Hermione back around and wraps one of her legs around his waist. His pelvic bone grinds into her, and she can no longer hold back. The panties that were the subject of many a daydream and wanking had been Christened.

“I can’t stand up,” Hermione laughs at herself wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck to steady her wobbly legs.

“Well, we aren’t done yet,” Draco says as he scoops her up and makes his way to her bedroom—but first, he intends to claim her in every room of the mansion.

—xoxox—

After passionate lovemaking and what could be considered the defiling of Ministry property, they curl in each other’s arms in the bed of the master suite.

Shopping bags are strewn everywhere around the room. Hermione hadn’t planned on leaving her room in such a state, but after Draco’s panicked phone call, she knew he needed her. She wanted to start her life anew in every way possible, even down to purchasing new bed covers. She wanted to make sure the first time Draco was in this bed with her, no remnants of her marriage were present. The bedding has the fresh-out-of-the-package smell, but the crisp new sheets and duvet are such a high-quality thread count, they don’t have that itchy feeling.

She asks him while trailing her fingers down his skin, “Will you stay the night?”

“Is this a formal invitation?” he takes her hand and kisses her fingertips.

“Yes.”

“Then let me run home and retrieve a few things,” they kiss again but are interrupted by Hermione’s mobile.

She reaches over to her nightstand and reads who it is from, “Damn. It’s Ron. I need to take this.”

Draco groans and separates himself from her, “I bet he knows we’re together.”

“Shh,” she gives him a quick kiss while he makes the most adorable pout, “Yes, Ronald.”

“Hermione, I have been trying to get into the house all day.” Ron practically screams, and Draco can hear every word, “What the hell? Already locking me out?”

“Harry asked me to increase security at the mansion,” she knows Harry is going to be upset with her using him as a scapegoat.

“Bollocks. You don’t want me barging on you and Malfoy.” Ron hasn’t calmed down much since yesterday’s family dinner. “You know what? I don’t care. I just want my stuff.”

“I packed it all this afternoon. I’ll send the box through the floo.”

“ _Box?_ I have more than one box worth of items, Hermione. What about everything in the kitchen? The music room? My quidditch memorabilia? Photos?” With each item he lists, his voice grows louder.

“Ronald. Summoning and extension charms. All I had to do is charm a box and call for your stuff. It’s not that difficult.” Draco has to stifle a laugh and Hermione looks back at him with a smile. She straddles him and puts a finger to his lips.

“Well, can I pick it up?” Ron feels a bit embarrassed that he didn’t think about that himself— especially since storage boxes with extension charms are one of the biggest sellers at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes home products shop, The Burrow.

“I’ll send it through the floo now. Is that all you need from the house?” Hermione asks. Draco runs his hands up and down her thighs while Hermione argues with her estranged husband.

“I’ll go through the box and let you know,” Ron says, still annoyed, but less enraged.

“Oh, and I’ve been thinking about it and also talked to Harry. He thinks that we shouldn’t wait to tell the rest of the family about the divorce. They’ll be more upset that we didn’t tell them right away.” Hermione is having difficulty keeping a straight face with Draco’s hands wandering all over her body.

“Are you sure? You do realize how awkward it will be at Rose’s wedding?” Ron can’t see how this could possibly be a good idea.

Hermione can hear the doubt in Ron’s voice and says, “Think about how much more awkward it will be if they find out in the papers and not from us?”

“Fine. How do you want to do it?”

“I’ll write to everyone tomorrow and then we can talk to everyone in person at the family tasting at Albus, Rose, and Scorpius’s pub.” As the words ‘tasting’ leave Hermione’s lips, Draco cocks an eyebrow and is inspired to start licking her skin and biting her nipples. She has to clench her teeth and purse her lips not to make any noises.

“Their what?” Ron is confused by the conversation and has no idea what Hermione is talking about.

“Rose didn’t tell you either?” Hermione is relieved that she wasn’t the only parent in the dark.

“Tell me what?” Once again, Ron goes on the defensive feeling left out.

“I just found out last night,” Hermione is now running her fingers through Draco’s hair with her free hand, “The kids secretly bought a pub and Albus is going to run it.”

“I just love it when I get left out of things,” Ron’s sullen, whiny, little brother antics get on Hermione’s nerves.  Draco can see the annoyance on her face and rubs his hands down her back to keep her relaxed.

Hermione smiles, and her tone is much less annoyed when she tells her ex, “Well you aren’t the only one. Apparently Ginny and Draco were the only other ones who knew about it.” Hermione drags her fingernails down Draco’s chest as she says his name.

“Oh great, my sister is also plotting with Malfoy.”

“Enough, Ron. I’ll send out the letters to family tomorrow, and we’ll talk to them in person later this week.”

“Fine. Bye. Don’t forget my stuff,” Ron says curtly.

“On its—” Hermione is shocked, and Draco looks at her puzzled, “that twat hung up on me. Maybe I should break a few of his things.”

Draco lets out another chuckle, “Well if he is indeed a wizard, he should be able to repair them.”

“Damn, right,” they both laugh, “Let me send this damn box. Get dressed, and you can use the floo in my study.”

She slides off him, and he reluctantly gets out of bed. While Hermione quickly throws on a silk dressing gown and slippers, Draco has to deal with his pants, trousers, belt, socks, shoes, and shirt. He doesn’t bother with his jacket, waistcoat, and tie. “You know, this is a lot easier when you spend the night at my house.”

“For you, maybe,” she laughs.

Draco carries the box for Hermione as they make their way down to her study. Before he enters her special floo she reminds him, “You’ll have to return by apparition. You didn’t forget the password, did you?”

“Amortentia?” he says with a smirk.

“Right,” she kisses him goodbye as he heads to the manor.

Hermione levitates the box, throws in the floo powder and says, “The Summer House.” Another flick of her wand sends the package to the cottage.

She gets a quick text from Ron that says, “Got it. I’ll let you know if anything is missing.”

Hermione doesn’t bother responding to the text. Instead, she takes a seat at the desk, takes out a piece of parchment and her fountain pen. While much of the wizarding world is now using digital media, there are many groups of older witches and wizards, such as Molly and Arthur, who still prefer parchment and owl. Official notices, such as Hogwarts acceptance letters and Ministry summons, are still sent in the traditional way. Hermione realizes as this is a divorce announcement, tradition is warranted to all members of the family.  

—xoxox—

_11 March 2030_

_My Dearest Molly and Arthur,_

_Over the years, Ronald and I have had our ups and downs, but as of late, we have had more downs than ups. We have both tried to make the marriage work, but have decided we cannot continue. We will always love each other in some way, but we have grown up and grown apart and no longer have the connection we once hand. We have officially filed for divorce, which will be finalized in six-weeks time._

_Your marriage has always been an inspiration to us—it is what kept us fighting. You two always have love and admiration, no matter how challenging the situation. When I look back at your lives together, it is one of the most powerful and romantic of love stories. Not war, torture, oppression, hardships, nor even the loss of a child weakened your marriage. What you have is real love, a kind of love I don’t believe Ron and I ever had. Whatever we had, we lost that spark a long time ago, which it seems was quite apparent to those closest to us. I can’t help but feel we failed you and I wish things were different, but they aren’t._

_Thank you for all your love and support over the years. Before I was your daughter-in-law, I was your son’s best friend. You were welcoming and accepted an annoying muggle-born girl into your world. Your guidance has meant the world to me, and I will always view you as my second parents._

_Love Always,_

_Hermione_

—xoxox—

Hermione wipes the tears from her eyes and seals up the envelope. She then continues to write letters to Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, and Charlie. With all the letters written, she puts them aside to be sent first thing in the morning. She sends a text to her parents that she’ll meet them for lunch and will tell them in person.

Quite some time has passed, and she realizes Draco hasn’t returned. She dials his number, and he picks up.

“Hey, sorry. I had a few things to handle at home,” Draco says knowing that he took a little bit longer than expected.

“No worries. I was busy writing all those letters,” Hermione was pleased to hear his voice after writing such emotionally exhausting letters.

“I’m leaving now,” he says.

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Draco arrives with his suit in a garment bag, which he had one of his house elves press before he left, and another bag with his shoes and toiletries. “I’m not as proficient at extension charms as you are,” he says with a smile.

“I’ll charm this bag for you. You’ll be so thankful for it.” She takes him by the arm and leads him back to the room.  

—xoxox—

That morning, Hermione sends her owl out to deliver letters to the Weasley family while she and Draco have breakfast at a local muggle cafe.

“Draco, you know this is technically our first date,” Hermione jokes before taking a sip of her cappuccino.

“So, me taking you out for drinks on the cruise, museum exhibits, and walks around London don’t count?” Draco reaches over and wipes the foam off Hermione’s lip.

“You could make that argument, but I didn’t know of your romantic intentions, so no.” She now reaches over to him and wipes off a bit of chocolate left on the corner of his mouth from the croissant.

“I love you,” he sneaks a kiss, “just thought you should know.”

“I love you, too,” she says to him with a flutter in her heart, “I’m meeting my parents for lunch to tell them about my divorce, and I’m going to tell them about you.”

“Do you think they are ready for that?” he squeezes her hand and has a little worry in his voice.

“I don’t believe they were ready when they found out their only daughter was a witch. It’s their lot in life to have me constantly blindside them,” she says with a smile.

“So, I've met them a few times over the years,” he says as knots build in his stomach, “have they ever said anything about me?”

“Well, they are happy that my school bully grew up and isn't the horrid child that would make me cry over Christmas and Easter holidays.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco says, feeling more nervous than before, “anything else?”  

“Well, they love Scorpius, and know that was a lot of your doing.”

“Okay…”

“My father thinks you’re clever and present yourself well, and my mother thinks you have a nice smile and bum.”

“Ha!” Draco exclaims and almost spits out his tea. “I think that is enough of an approval for now. I will woo them eventually.”

“The fact that you have table manners, a vocabulary that extends beyond ‘bloody,' and know the difference between Edwardian and Victorian antiquities already puts you leagues ahead of Ron in my mother’s book.”

“Weasley set a rather low bar, didn’t he?” Draco says with a smirk, “Goodness, Jean and Narcissa would have gotten on well based on that.”

“Alas, your mother is probably rolling in her grave knowing we’re together,” she rolls her eyes and takes another sip of coffee.

“I heard an earful from her portrait last night. I know it’s not really her, but it’s still unnerving.”

“Did you now? Where is her portrait?”

“Down near the sewing room. Mother loved needlepoint and wanted her portrait to be surrounded by her tapestries,” he takes another sip of tea and continues the story, “I was with Bobbin, as he was pressing my suit. ‘Mother’ asked me where I was going, and I told her the truth.”

“And?”

“Well, in her very calm, Narcissa Black Malfoy way, she told me she was disappointed in my choice of women. Astoria being a muggle/muggle-born sympathizer and you being a muggle-born destroying the wizarding establishment. She then told me I should have married Pansy Parkinson and I laughed so hard—oh the face she made. You would have thought she swallowed a lemon.”

“That must have been quite the sight. I would have told her if you married Parkinson, your children would have ended up looking like a litter of pugs and have the high-pitched squealing to match.”

Draco tries not to laugh but instead dribbles his tea all over himself and covers his face with the napkin in embarrassment. Hermione is now laughing, more at the man across from her trying to clean himself up without magic, than her joke. He is truly adorable when he is in the muggle world, she thinks to herself.

—xoxox—

The minute Hermione walks into her office, Allie hands her an itinerary. The conversation that she had with Harry yesterday afternoon already has its repercussions. She’ll be meeting with various department heads on how to deal with the refugee crisis and what to present to the PM. The Minister prepares herself for battle. It will be the same argument the muggles had for years, but once you add magic to the mix, things get even more complicated.

Trying to find common ground is next to impossible. The conversation of aid versus refuge is heated. They discuss granting priority refuge to women and children, then the topic of muggle born children comes up. What do they do in that case? Then the issue of pre-screening becomes a major discussion. Do they have enough gifted legilimens to break through any refugees who try to shield themselves with Occlumency? Harry brings up a top secret enhanced veritaserum that is still under development, which could streamline the interview process. Many valid points are made, and they decide that task forces and committees are needed to handle and outline plans. The department heads agree not to transition into the next phase until they return from lunch.

—xoxox—

Hermione arrives at the Spanish restaurant with a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Though she is fifty-years-old and her parents are in their late seventies, the thought of disappointing her parents is one of the worst feelings in the world. It looks as though Hugh and Jean Granger have just taken their seats—they are looking at their menus and don’t have any drinks just yet.

“Mum! Dad!” she says excitedly, yet unsure why it came out that way.

“Hello, Darling!” Jean says and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“My little hermit crab,” Hugh says to Hermione much to her embarrassment, “So, we’re surprised at the urgency to which you requested this lunch, sweet pea. Is anything the matter?”

She sighs, knowing there is no reason to beat around the bush, “There is no easy way to put this, but Ronald and I are getting a divorce.”

Her mother says, “Oh, my dear. Did something happen?”

“I’ve tried to shield you from this, but we’ve been going to therapy for close to a decade. I just didn’t want you to worry,” the guilt of not being completely honest with her parents hits Hermione like a brick once she sees their eyes.

“Hermione,” her father says, “we know you’re not a child, and that you have raised children of your own,” he pauses as he looks into his daughter’s big brown eyes that look so much like his wife’s, “I know that you never want to disappoint us and to this day, still value our approval. But sweetheart, ten years is a long time to be unhappy. That’s what disappoints me—knowing that my daughter fought for a lost cause. Life is much too short to be with someone you don’t love or doesn’t love you back.”

“Your father and I only want your happiness. I would be lying if I said that hadn’t noticed you growing further apart. I am your mother after all. We can sense these things,” at her mother’s words, Hermione shrinks in her chair and feels like a chastised child. Jean continues, “How do you feel about the whole situation?”

“To be honest, liberated. The best I’ve felt in years, but I need to be one-hundred percent honest with you,” Hermione pauses and steadies herself, “Ron and I hit our breaking point a long time ago, but there was a catalyst that made me finally walk away. Granted, I had the divorce papers prepared for months, but this past weekend, I finally signed them.”

“You say a catalyst. What does that mean?” her father inquires.

“Draco professed his love for me, and I realized I was in love with him, too.” Jean gasps and covers her mouth while Hugh’s mouth drops. “Before you say anything else, nothing had happened between us until I had signed the divorce papers after the engagement party.”

“Wait. You are telling me, at Rosie’s engagement party, her future father-in-law confessed he was in love with you, then you went home and signed divorce papers?” Hugh repeats the gist of what his daughter explained.

“And you’re together now?” Jean finally finding the ability to speak.

“Yes,” Hermione states assertively.

“Well this is a surprise indeed,” Jean says while flagging down the waitress, “bring us a pitcher of sangria, seafood paella, and some assorted tapas. Actually, make that two pitchers of sangria, pronto. Gracias.”

Jean turns back to her daughter, “So you are in love with Draco Malfoy? This is quite the turn of events. How long do you think you’ve been in love with him?”

“It must have been years. His companionship filled the void of my loveless marriage. I just didn’t realize at the time we were falling in love with each other. Daddy, please don’t look at me like that,” Hermione sees the disappointment in his father’s eyes and tries to decipher what it means.

“Oh, sweetheart. You have a man that loves you and has been waiting to love you. I don’t know; it just makes me a bit sad knowing that you denied yourself that for so long,” Hugh reaches over and takes her hand and tears start to form in Hermione’s eyes.

“Your father was always a sucker for an unrequited love story. I can’t even tell you how many times we’ve seen Love Actually and The Great Gatsby. Oh, Hermione. Are you truly happy?” Jean asks with sincerity and hope.

“The happiest I have been in a long time. When I said I felt liberated, I meant it. Being with Draco is freeing. I can’t describe it any other way,” she smiles as her heart pounds thinking about him.

“Then we will be happy for you,” Jean says as she strokes her daughter’s hair, “Now, where’s that waitress with our wine?”

—xoxox—

Hermione arrives back to the Ministry with about thirty minutes before the next session of meetings begins. Once at her desk, she sees a pile of letters and messages to go through, but first, she needs to call Rita Skeeter.

The phone rings and the reporter picks up, “Daily Prophet, this is Rita Skeeter.”

“Rita, it’s Minister Granger,” she says with the utmost composure. “After careful consideration and consultation with my confidantes, legal counsel, and estranged husband, we have decided to make the announcement of the divorce public, but we request that it not publish until Saturday morning.”

“This is wonderful news, Minister. But why Saturday?” Rita says in an obnoxiously chipper voice.

“There are a few other family members that still need to be informed. On a Saturday, gossip can spread more quickly and will hopefully be old news by the weekday. Also, it will give your writers additional time to draft the perfect article, don’t you agree?” Hermione says.

“I’m not sure about your logic, Minister, but if those are your wishes, we can wait until the Saturday Morning Edition. We’ll have the first draft for you ready tomorrow morning,” Rita doesn’t put up much of a fight. She knows she is crowned victor.

“Thank you, Ms. Skeeter. I look forward to it. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Minister.”

With that out of the way, she checks her text messages and sees a ridiculous group thread Albus, Scorpius, and Rose had roped her, Ginny, and Draco into. She scrolls through the insults and embarrassing photos and finds that this chat started because they had set a date for the tasting for Friday at 7 pm. She responds to the text with the following,  

—xoxox—

HG: You are all ridiculous. Get back to work. I’ll see you on Friday, if not sooner.

SM: Yes, boss

RGW: :/

AP: You sound like you need a drink 

GP: Same

—xoxox—

Hermione welcomes the comic relief but sees a stack of envelopes that need attending to before heading back to the conference room. As she flips through, she sees an envelope with very familiar, hurried scrawl—Molly. As she opens it, she notices that the parchment is stained with tears. Hermione’s heart drops as she reads the letter from her mother-in-law.

_12 March 2030_

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_My heart is absolutely broken. I know that you and Ron did not have the perfect love story and I would be lying if I didn’t see you drifting, but never in a million years, would I imagine the day you two wouldn’t be together. I wish I knew how to fix this and make my son and daughter happy._

_I’m sorry, but I cannot find the words._

_Love,_

_Molly_

Molly’s words feel like a punch to the gut—her reaction was so much different than that of Hermione’s parents. Hugh and Jean’s reaction was that of parents thrilled to see their daughter happy and moving on. Molly’s reaction was that of a mother fearful that her son will never find happiness again.

Hermione rubs her temples and processes everything: attempt to solve an international crisis, family dinner and confrontation on Friday, and divorce announcement on Saturday. This is going to be a very, very long week. Albus is right—she does need a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	19. Don’t Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to The Burrow when Molly notices something peculiar. Jump back to present day to a family gathering at The Rose and Scorpion.

## December 2020

“Arthur! Arthur, come here! I can’t figure out what’s wrong with this ruddy clock!” Molly hollers for her husband with her wand pointed at her throat. She has no idea what that man is up to and must use the sonorus charm to amplify her voice to get his attention. As she stands in front of the family clock, she tilts her head, confused, and pokes it with her wand.

The aged man’s hair is no longer it’s characteristic “Weasley Ginger.” It has faded to white with touches of brassy strawberry. He totters into the house, covered in motor oil and grease. His wife rolls her eyes, wondering what her husband could possibly be up to in the garage.

“Yes, Molly. What is it? Something urgent? I am in the middle of a project—er—tune-up, the muggles call it,” Arthur says to his wife, albeit unconvincingly. After years of Arthur’s experiments with kisses Polly artifacts, his wife's suspicions as to his activities have never waned.

Molly casts a non-verbal cleaning charm on Arthur and the grime vanishes. She grabs him by the wrist, takes him to the clock in the kitchen, and points, “Look at the clock. What do you notice?”

“Hermione and Ron are _‘lost?’_ What does that mean?” The senior Weasley says as he also pokes at the clock.  He scratches his head wondering if it could be a simple fix. _“Reparo!”_

His wife shakes her head and slaps his arm. “Like I didn’t try that already. What on earth does this mean?” She sounds distressed, wondering if her son and daughter-in-law were in trouble.

“Well, it’s quite old, Molly. Our youngest child is almost forty now. I suppose the magic is just wearing off,” Arthur replies to his wife. Ever the tinkerer, the man takes the clock off the wall, inspects it, and whispers a few incantations. To no avail, Hermione and Ron’s positions are stuck at “Lost.”

A roar comes from the fireplace, followed by some bickering.

“Speak of the devils. Hermione! Ron! You’re here early!” Molly says to her youngest son and daughter-in-law.

Molly and Arthur love to host Sunday dinner while their grandchildren are away at school. It’s quality time for them to catch up with their children and their spouses, with the exception of Charlie, who never married. He still lives in Romania but is now the head of the dragon research and breeding program.   

“Hello, Molly. Arthur,” Hermione says as she kisses her in-laws on the cheek.

“Mum. Dad,” Ron greets his parents. “So, are we the first ones for dinner?”

“Yes, you are,” Molly looks at the pair questioningly, wondering why there was so much tension between them. “Ronald, please help your father clean up whatever mess he made in the garage. Hermione, could you please help me set the table?”

“Of course, Molly,” Hermione says, never one to forget her manners.

“Yeah, sure,” Ron says as his father throws an arm around him and escorts him outside.

Hermione gets to work. With a flick of her wand, she takes out the tablecloth, plates, and silverware and sets the table. She then summons the glassware and fills up the glasses with water. With the use of magic, this task is quite simple. Pleased with the set-up, she asks her mother-in-law, “Molly, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, dear. Thank you. I am just about done,” the older woman says, a bit distracted as she finishes up.

The Minister for Magic takes a seat on the sofa and absent-mindedly twirls her curls. Her mother-in-law’s guilty pleasure is reading gossip magazines—and the coffee table has plenty. Hermione rolls her eyes as she picks up the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Draco Malfoy is on the cover—his face is relaxed, almost serene, but his eyes are intense and piercing. Bold lettering across the glossy paper reads, ‘Draco Malfoy’s Secret Life: Widower, Single Father, Businessman, Philanthropist.’ She can’t help but chuckle to herself at the headline.

Hermione skims the article but isn’t paying attention to the story. What has caught her eye is a moving photo of Draco looking pensive, with his eyes not focused on the camera. His eyes suddenly look up, and his lip turns a half smile. Without realizing, she’s smiling back at him.

About a month ago, they shared quite a grand adventure to save her nephew and his son. It was much more enjoyable fighting alongside him rather than against him. According to him, he enjoyed it as well, particularly being bossed around by her.

“Hermione? Is that the issue with Draco Malfoy on the cover?” Molly asks.

After being lost in thought, Hermione says, “I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Is that Draco’s issue you’re reading?” Molly asks as she levitates the food toward the table.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, it is.” Hermione shuts the magazine feeling oddly embarrassed.

After all the platters are set, Molly walks over and takes a seat next to Hermione. “Quite the looker that Malfoy grew into. Also the complete opposite of his father—donating to the school, charity organizations, investing in small businesses—all without ever taking any credit. I wonder why he would decide to tell everyone now.”

“Oh, that’s sort of my fault. I had lunch with him a few weeks ago, trying to build bridges and put the past behind us. I asked what he’s been doing all these years, and after much coercing, he told me about how he wanted to use his family’s fortune for good as part of his atonement.” 

Molly shares a look of approval. It's apparent she is impressed that the minister took the initiative to extend the olive branch. 

Hermione continues, “He was so sincere about his reasoning for taking on these projects. I just felt everyone should know what he was doing to rebuild his family legacy, so I very casually—well maybe not that casual—told a few reporters about all the great work Malfoy has done.”

“Good for you, sweetheart. It was a very nice article. Witch Weekly loves a handsome man with a redemption story. Oh! And the part where he talks about his wife. Heartbreaking. We should have him and his boy around some time,” Molly says with a sparkle in her eye.

“I don’t know if Ron will like that,” Hermione says as she grows fidgety, “He wasn’t pleased that I took lunch with Malfoy. Ron still holds quite the grudge.”

“Hmm...Is that why you two were bickering when you came through the floo?” Molly purses her lips and asks in a very motherly tone.

“One of the reasons. He’s still pushing this vow renewal thing. I haven’t been the Minister long, and wedding planning is so stressful. I just don’t see the point of a vow renewal,” Hermione says while trying to contain her annoyance.

“What are his reasons for wanting to have another wedding?”

“He said he was too drunk to remember it the first time.”

“Well, that is a ridiculous reason to make such a fuss. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Molly.”

The older witch sees a bit of sadness on Hermione's face and asks, “Is anything else the matter, dear?”

She just shrugs her shoulders and looks down at the magazine cover again. With a sigh, she says,  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just stressed out over work, the upcoming holidays, and the kids are coming home from school. There’s a lot going on right now.”

Molly’s maternal instincts tell her that something else is going on. She draws her eyes back up to the clock, with Ron and Hermione still stuck on ‘lost.’   

 

* * *

            

## March 2030

The rest of the week was absolutely hellish for Hermione. Murmurs of her divorce were already swirling around the ministry which in turn caused more rumors about her reasons for not wanting to run for re-election. Hermione is questioning herself wondering if sending letters to the whole family was the best idea. Out of everyone in the family, if anyone let things slip, it would have been Percy. That bastard. He would do anything to undermine her.

On top of the speculation about her personal life, there is still the issue of the aid and refuge of the displaced witches and wizards. After meetings upon meetings, the ministry officials still can’t agree on the immigration situation. Scorpius made the argument that Hogwarts has the room and the funding to take on five hundred students without even tapping into the reserve accounts. He proposed they could keep the school running year-round for the displaced students until the Ministry and British government can sort their parents’ migration. When the other school governors made a motion, the proposition failed by one vote. Scorpius had sworn that he would come up with a compelling argument to help the children and stormed out of the chamber.

Harry was able to allocate more aurors to fight alongside international forces, which was easily agreed upon. Whether or not Wizarding Britain would be represented in this war as a whole was still up for debate.

Hermione has her bi-weekly tea with the Prime Minister next week. She just hopes that they will have some sort of a plan before she has to break the news to him.

While she deals with the pressures of being the most politically powerful, and some would argue she is also the most magically powerful person in Britain, Draco is entering international diplomacy—just to be by her side. He passed all of his language exams without breaking a sweat on Wednesday and will be starting training the following week.

The two have spent every moment they can together. It had been so long since Hermione felt supported at home. Most of the time, Ron never even tried to understand what she went through. But Draco is different. Every night, he listens to Hermione’s dilemmas and offers his opinions and advice — though it's not always what Hermione wants to hear. Truthfully, she doesn’t mind a bit of disagreement as long as he makes up for it by rubbing her shoulders and peppering her neck with kisses. She wonders how many more quiet, intimate moments they have left until all hell breaks loose.

—xoxox—

Hermione walks through the door of the Rose and Scorpion Pub and sees her two dark-haired nephews, one behind the bar and the other slumped on the stool nursing his drink.

“Albus, are Rose and Scorpius here yet?” Hermione asks her younger nephew.

“Not yet, but they should be here soon,” he replies to her.

She slides next to James and gently rubs his back, “How’s it going, James?” She looks up at Albus, and he shakes his head, slowly indicating to his aunt things aren’t great.

The elder of the Potter boys tries to put a brave face on for his aunt, “I’m alright, Aunt Hermione. Just got cleared to go back out in the field.”

“Oh?” Hermione looks questioningly at her nephew while Albus hands her a drink, “If you don’t think you’re ready, I can pull a few strings and keep you home for a while longer. What good is being Minister if I can’t look after my family?”

He gives a slight chuckle, “That’s alright. I’m ready. I swear. This is what I signed up for. Saving the world. Greater good and all that. Lily is already back on assignment.”

“Gryffindors,” Albus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “The whole lot of you need to practice being selfish at least once in your life. It might prevent you from getting into more trouble.”

While Hermione laughs, James is not amused. Hermione curls her finger for Albus to lean in. She cups her ear and whispers, “I wouldn’t be so sure. I’m obviously under the influence of those Slytherin wiles, and a little selfishness has put me in the position I’m in now. But I’ll admit. It is fun.”

They both laugh and James gets even more annoyed and says, “Out with it. What are you two on about?”

“Inside joke, Jamie. You know what those are, right?” Albus says with a smirk, “Help yourselves to the bar. I need to get back in the kitchen.”

“It better be good, Al. I’m starving,” James hollers at his younger brother.

Hermione turns back to James and says to him, “James, in all seriousness, are you ready to go back out in the field? If there is anyone you need to talk to, you know that me, your uncle, and mum and dad know war and survivor’s guilt better than most.”

“Thanks, Auntie. I promise. I’m ready. Mum and Dad gave me a lot of great advice. More than anything, I’m ready to shut this down. This has gone on far too long, and they need people who are ready to fight.”

“Good to hear,” she says as she smiles with pride at her nephew.

“So you’re really stepping down from being minister? It’s going to be tough for us out there without someone like you at home,” James says with complete sincerity.

Hermione couldn’t wipe the smile from her face and rests her head on his shoulder, “Oh, Jamie. It’s time for me to go. I’ve been at this since I was seventeen, actually before then. Time for me to live my life and see what the world has to offer. I’m sure the next minister will be brilliant.”

“By that you mean, Justin Finch-Fletchley? What if Uncle Percy runs?” James asks imploringly.

“Well, it’s your vote. You don’t need to vote for family just because. Think about what is most important to you and how it affects the work you want to do,” Hermione says quite diplomatically.

“So Justin? Between you and me, I hate Uncle Percy,” he says with a wink.

Hermione can’t control her laughter, and she feels someone’s arms wrap around her and feels a kiss her on the neck. Forgetting her present company, excitement washes over her as she turns to kiss her lover.

“Um. What is going on?” James says quite deadpan.   

Draco is suddenly startled as the voice he hears isn’t one he expects, “Oh, shit. Hi, James. I hope to God your parents and your brother told you what’s going on because this is awkward as hell. I honestly thought you were Albus from the back.”

“Seriously, Draco? Albus has a totally different haircut, and I don’t have a single tattoo on my neck—so does anyone care to fill me in, or am I still at the kids' table?” James is now staring daggers at his aunt wanting an answer.

“Well—” Hermione clears her throat. She might as well get used to this because she has a feeling she’ll be telling this story all night long. “You know that your uncle and I have had problems for a long time—we have never been that great at hiding it.”

“Okay? And?” James can tell his aunt is struggling with the words.

“We are getting a divorce. Your mother helped me months ago prepare the divorce paperwork, but Ron and I just started the proceedings on Sunday,” Hermione has trouble telling all of this to James as he is very close to his Uncle Ron. James looks as though he is still processing everything and gestures his head toward Draco’s direction—suggesting to Hermione she isn’t done with storytime just yet. “Draco and I started seeing each other after the party...James, you’re old enough now, I don’t need to dance around this. I know you love your uncle, but our marriage has been over for years, and we probably should have gotten divorced a long, long time ago.”

Draco squeezes Hermione’s shoulder and takes over, “James, your aunt made the decision to leave your uncle on her own. I was just here waiting for her.”

James finally drains his glass. He reaches over and drinks all of his aunt’s whisky. Then, a mischievous smile creeps across his face. “Of course my parents and brother told me. I just wanted to see the two of you sweat.” James laughs at their gobsmacked faces and places a reassuring hand on Hermione’s shoulder, “I love you and Uncle Ron, but I don’t love my mum whinging about why you aren’t divorced yet. Also, Draco? Not surprised. I am an auror after all.” He gives them a wink and walks into the kitchen and hollers, “I’m fucking hungry, Albus!”

“That little shit,” Draco says half-impressed, “he really wound us up, didn’t he?”

“I can’t believe him,” she scoffs. Hermione is stunned that he pulled one over on her so easily. “He can always crack a joke at the tensest of moments—coping mechanism, I guess. Ugh, I'm not prepared for tonight.”  She hops off the barstool and hugs him around the waist.

Draco kisses her on the top of the head, “I wish I could stay here and be there for you, but I’m afraid I’ll just make things worse.”

“You’re probably right. I’m a big girl. I can handle this on my own—I think,” she pulls a funny face, losing confidence.

He tilts her chin, so her eyes meet his, “Get through this and we are one step closer to being out in the open. Right?”

“Right.” Her smile returning. 

He lovingly strokes the side of her face in such a wonderfully reassuring way that she just melts into his hand. He leans down for a kiss then says, “I have to go now. They’ll be here soon.”

“I know,” her chest heaves, not wanting him to leave, “I’ll come over after.”

“For the weekend, right?”

“Yes, for the whole weekend,” she says with the most suggestive of smiles.

Draco bites his lip as his mind wanders momentarily. He shakes out of it, knowing that time is running out. He squeezes her tight and leaves a chaste kiss on top of her head before saying goodbye. “I’ll see you later.”

They break their embrace, and she says, “Bye. Now go.” She smacks his bum as he walks toward the door.

Hermione looks down at her mobile and is about to text Rose and Scorpius, but hears the bells as the door swings open. Her least favorite brother-in-law and equally unpleasant and judgmental wife have arrived. Hermione puts on her most pleasant voice and says, “Audrey! Percy! So nice to see you. You’re here early.”

Percy takes off his coat and then helps his wife with hers. Percy has gone almost completely bald except a little tuft of faded ginger on the back of his head. Behind his glasses, his face scrunches in more of a sourpuss than a sneer. His wife nudges him in the ribs, realizing how long it has taken for him to respond to Hermione, so he also forces pleasantries. “Ah, yes. Just worked out that way today, didn’t it? Was that Draco or Scorpius we saw leaving the pub? He was mid-disapparation, and I could barely make out the hair.”

Hermione hesitates and says, “Draco. He came to wish Albus luck in person, but won’t be staying for the tasting. He said he was feeling ill.”

“Hmm. I see…” Percy tips his glasses down a bit looking at Hermione suspiciously.

Before Hermione has to engage with anymore exhausting, forced conversation with Percy, bartenders, servers, Polly, James, and Albus all emerge from the kitchen. Her nephews and the young reporter walk toward them.

“Nice pub, Albus. We look forward to the dinner. If you don’t mind, we’ll be excusing ourselves and heading to the bar,” Percy says to his nephew while not even acknowledging the other or the young woman.

“Bye,” Audrey’s singular interaction with her nephews and sister-in-law is curt and insincere. A hand reaches for her wrist and is whisked away by her detestable husband.

Once out of earshot, James says, “Did you see that? He didn’t even say hello to me? Seriously, he’s the biggest fucking knob head. If he wasn’t family…”

“James! Chill the fuck out. We’ve got enough going on tonight without you hexing our uncle. Yeah, he’s a complete wank stain, but Gran is going to be here, and she’s already out of sorts about the divorce.” Albus turns his head sharply, and Hermione’s eyes have shot open wide realizing what he just said. He had completely forgotten Polly was listening to the conversation.

“Oh. Shit. Pol. You weren’t supposed to know that yet,” Albus claps his hands over his face regretting being the loose lips. He’s usually the most put together and secretive of the Potter children. The stress of opening the pub—and maybe the growing comfort around Polly—are distracting him. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Hermione. Fuck.”

Hermione puts her fingertips to her temples and starts massaging. She exasperatedly says, “It’s fine. Polly, you were going to find out by the end of tonight anyway. It’s also going to be announced in the paper tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Minister. I actually already knew. I already heard the buzz around the office today,” Polly says with a sort of cringe on her face, almost as if she didn’t want to tell Hermione the truth.

“Sodding Prophet,” Hermione says, not sure she should ever get them involved in her affairs again. A smile grows on her face as it just dawns on her that Polly is attending a family event. She points her finger at Polly and Albus and asks, “So? Is this a thing now?”

Polly smirks as she gives Albus the side-eye, “I wish this were just a social call, but I got into a bit of trouble with my editor and need to do another profile on the pub. He said my article focused a bit too much on the chef and not the food. As far as Albus and me...”

He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably and fidgets a bit. He tells his aunt, “Um. We’re hanging out. Polly likes my cooking.”

“So that’s what you’re calling it now?” James makes a quick quip to which Polly turns beet red. Hermione gives a bit of a chuckle.

Albus leans in and whispers to his brother, “Well, she has quite the appetite, and asks that I keep her mouth full.” The brothers double over in laughter. 

Hermione just shakes her head in mock disapproval.

Polly does not look amused with being the subject of some immature conversation. Albus sees her pouting, so he takes her by the hand and pulls her in close. Forgetting that he's in the company of his aunt and brother, his hands run along her sides and settle on her tiny waist above her curvy hips. Albus has to bend down to meet her eyes. She's a petite little thing but has the curves to make up for the lack of height. In his lowest, most seductive growl, he says, “Don’t be mad. You know I also like to eat.”

The blue-haired beauty can’t stay mad and cracks a smile and traces the outlines of the tattoos that decorate the backs of his forearms, “You’re an arse, Albus Potter. Adorable. Talented. But still an arse.”

The door swings open and a flood of people make their way through the pub doors. An uneasiness comes over everyone. Hermione realizes this is the first time she has seen Ron since their family dinner. He doesn’t walk over to her, but glares in her general direction and settles himself at the bar near Percy.

Rose and Scorpius have just walked in and are chatting to Teddy and Victoire. Scorpius eagerly scoops up Baby Remus. Hermione can see Scorpius gesture toward Hermione and Victoire nods.

“Hey guys,” Scorpius says to everyone. They all peak over to gawk at the baby.

“Hey Mum,” Rose says as she gives her mother a hug. “You ready for all this?”

“No. Not really. Maybe with a few more drinks,” she responds. Hermione looks down at the sweet two-month-old. He has fair skin, black hair, and gray eyes. Somehow, after skipping two generations, the Black genes found their way forward.

“Remy say, ‘hi,’” Scorpius says to the baby. He was named after his paternal grandfather, but his maternal grandmother gave the child his French nickname. “Look at you! You’re so handsome. We’ll have to convince your dad, but if you ever want to claim the Black name, I think we can make that happen. Then you can end up in Slytherin just like me and your Uncle Albus and your great-grandma. What do you think, buddy?” The baby just stretches and yawns. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Babe, Uncle Harry and your dad already reinstated his inheritance to the Black fortune. He doesn’t need the name, too,” Rose says sarcastically.

“Rosie, look at him! He _looks_ like a Black!” Scorpius says as he pulls back the blanket to reveal more of the boy’s features.

“Scorpius, you’re being an idiot,” Albus tells his best friend.

“So are we going to change our names to Black if our child is born with black hair?” Rose is amused and has no idea where this conversation is going.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Malfoy genes are much too dominant. We’ll never have a black-haired child,” Scorpius says as if Rose’s questions was completely asinine.

“What if they end up ginger? It’s dominant on my side,” Rose replies.

“But you’re strawberry blonde. Blonde, Rose. Blonde. Isn’t that right, Remy?” Scorpius turns his head back to the baby.

“Children, can we get through your wedding before we start talking about what your babies will look like?” Hermione says, overwhelmed with how comfortable Scorpius is with her grand-nephew.

“Please,” Rose replies, also a little uneasy with how much Scorpius has already thought about their future children.  

“Okay, enough baby talk,” Albus says, a bit annoyed with his best friend’s preoccupation with Remy. “I’m going to make an announcement soon and have everyone take their seats for dinner. I went through a lot of trouble of making a seating chart for this dinner,” he nods at the surprised looks, “Yeah. I made a seating chart for dinner at a pub because I’m _trying_ to avoid a riot.”

“Thank you, Albus,” Hermione looks guilty as she knows it’s mostly her fault.

“So on one side of the pub, I have Uncle Ron with Granny and Grandpa, Uncle Percy, Aunt Audrey, Molly, and Lucy. Neither of them brought dates, but honestly, I’d be surprised if they ever found any,” Albus says with a bit of a sneer.

“Harsh, Al,” his big brother says.

“Um, he’s spot on, though,” Rose chimes in, also not a fan of their cousins.

“Continue, please,” Scorpius says while rocking the baby.

“On the other side of the pub will be Aunt Hermione, the Malfoys, Potters, Lupins, and Polly. In the middle of the restaurant—also known as Switzerland—Uncle Bill and the rest of his family and Uncle George and his family,” Albus tells the group proudly.

“Well done, Albus,” his aunt says, impressed with how much thought went into planning this event. Hermione spots Ginny and Harry at last as they are making their way over to their sons. “Is there anyone else who should be here but couldn’t make it?”

“Hugo still isn’t sure. I texted him a while back, and he didn’t respond,” Albus says ruffling his hair. “Draco bowed out, and Uncle Charlie is being Uncle Charlie.”

The little group all look around at each other a little terrified of what is in store tonight. Harry taps Hermione on the shoulder and gives her a big hug, followed by Ginny also hugging her.

“Okay Scorpius, hand him over. You can’t hog the baby,” Ginny says playfully. Scorpius pouts and kisses the baby on the head before placing Remy in Ginny’s arms.

“It’s about time you showed up,” James tells his parents. “General A. Potter was just filling us in on the battle plan.”

Harry looks around. The pub is about full, and he can already hear the murmur of the crowd. The mood of the crowd is a far cry from last week’s engagement party. Everyone seems guarded and the conversation sterile. “Alright, let’s do this,” Harry says to everyone.

Albus gives Polly a kiss, and she joins his parents. Al, along with Rose and Scorpius, walk to the middle of the pub. His family is loud and obnoxious, and he already knows that a sonorus charm is needed. He points his wand to his throat and bellows, _“Can I have everyone’s attention please?”_

The servers come out with trays of champagne cocktails and begin passing the glass flutes to all the guests.

A hush comes over the crowd, and Albus continues, “Hello family, thank you for coming. Scorpius, Rose, and I can’t even tell you how happy we are that you came out to support us. This pub started out as a way for Scorp and Rose to keep me in England, but I’m really happy they convinced me to take on this project with them. I hope you all like everything. Please, please, please be one hundred percent honest with me about the food, drinks, and service. We only have a week until opening, and I want to make any changes necessary. Enjoy, and I’ll see you after dinner.”

“Cheers everyone,” Scorpius raises his glass to toast.

“Oh! And check the seating chart for assignments,” Rose announces the very, very important detail before tossing back the cocktail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	20. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner

## March 2030

The meal was outstanding. Course, after course, the sounds of   _“mmm,” “yum,”_ and even, _“Sweet Merlin,”_ here and there, were heard throughout the dining room. Service may have been a little rocky and some timing adjustments need to be made, but overall, a very successful tasting. Polly took notes throughout dinner working on her new, food-focused article.

Albus emerges from the kitchen to a roar of applause. He blushes and nervously scratches the back of his head again. The young chef goes around the room, table by table to receive feedback from his family.

“And to believe this all started in my kitchen?” Molly hollers loudly as she grabs her grandson around the neck and kisses his cheek proudly.

The family slowly gets up and starts to mingle. After a few drinks and delicious food, the mood in the air is a bit less tense—Ron even makes his way over to Hermione.

“Food was pretty good, eh?” Ron asks Hermione as Harry and Ginny also close in—just in case. “I’m pretty proud of the kids.”  

“Yeah, it was brilliant. I can’t believe they did all this without ever telling us anything,” Hermione says while shooting an accusatory look at Ginny.

“Those three together are just as bad as we were,” Ron brings a smile Hermione, Harry, and Ginny’s faces. “They never ask for permission or help. They just jump in head first. Actually, they might be worse—they’re rich.”

The in-laws share a laugh in a way that reminds them of old times and hopeful for the future.

“Ron, are we all going to be okay?” Harry asks his best friend.

“One day, mate,” he says as he looks at his soon-to-be-ex-wife then back to Harry. “Today was a good day. It might take me a little longer, and I’ll still have bad days, but I think we’ll all get there.”

“That’s good, Ron. Take your time,” Hermione says as Ron forces a smile then looks back down at his feet. At that moment, Hermione is thankful Draco wasn’t there. This is the breakthrough she was hoping for—putting their marriage in the past and climbing their way back to friendship.

“So good to see you all talking! I was expecting a rough night,” Molly says as she hugs everyone in the quartet. Slowly, the rest of the elder Weasley clan and their spouses join them while the younger generation breaks off and head to the bar.

“Good to see you, Molly.” Hermione swallows hard, and she feels like she is getting closed in on.

Thankfully, most of the family awkwardly dance around the topic of the divorce. Instead, they talk about Rose and Scorpius’s wedding. The women of the family excitedly titter about who should be on the guest list and when will they start working with the wedding planner.

Fleur and Bill proudly go on and on about their first grandchild.

“Remy is already spoiled beyond belief!” Bill says, “Not only is he the first Weasley grandchild of our generation, but he's also the first Delacour, so her family sends him all sorts of things from France. Oh, on top of that, the baby is _only_ one-eighth Black, but that doesn’t stop Scorpius from doting upon him as if he were his nephew. I think he’s trying to take the Godfather title away from James.”   

The lighter conversation makes this transition much easier. Hermione thinks she might still be able to be a part of this family, despite the divorce. There is some talk about politics and the conflict, but after the Second Wizarding War; the family doesn’t enjoy lingering on the topic of conflict that long.  

Percy stands arrogantly swirling the water in his glass and grows tired of avoiding the elephant in the room, “So you and Ron are getting a divorce. The letters were a nice touch. Very formal. Very eloquent.”

Bill shoots his younger brother a look that could kill. It’s not often you see his wolfish side, but blatant, inappropriate verbal attacks are one way to do it. He responds to Percy’s carelessness, “Goodness, Perce. Could you say that with a bit more ire or condescension?”

“I’m just saying what everyone wants to say but is avoiding,” Percy’s lip curls in a sneer.

George is the next brother to interject and seethes, “Well, Percy, we didn’t bring it up, because it doesn’t need to be brought up. It’s something Hermione and Ron are going through—on their own—and we should respect that. When they want to talk about it, don’t you think they would be the ones to initiate conversation?”

Ron and Hermione sigh in relief knowing that they wouldn’t have to talk about the details with the entire family while the wounds were still fresh. In an almost instinctual manner, Harry and Ginny take their places closer to Ron and Hermione.

With a huff, Percy goes on, “Oh, I just find the timing a bit strange, don’t you? They throw this elaborate engagement party for Rose, show up as a proud, happy couple, and the next day they’re filing for divorce.”

Hermione suspects Percy knows something. How much, she’s not sure, but his taunts won't bait her.

“Percy, shut up about things you don’t know about. It wasn’t sudden. I went with Hermione to help her file the paperwork months ago. This divorce was bound to happen,” Ginny jumps in, revealing much more than Hermione wanted her too.

“Is that true?” Arthur asks his daughter-in-law.

“Yes,” Hermione answers with her throat drier than the Sahara. She takes Harry’s pint and gulps the fizzy brown liquid; taking a moment to think about how much she wants to reveal. “Please, as George said, this is a private matter Ron and I are going through and are dealing with. Like Ginny said, the divorce was a long time coming and was brought to action because of a number of items.”

Her mother-in-law’s eyes peer into hers wanting more of an explanation. It’s all over the older woman’s face. Hermione has to help her understand the truth, “Molly, I’m sorry, but there is no chance of reconciliation of our marriage, though I would like Ron and me to reconcile our friendship.”

Molly gives a sad nod.   

Percy is not ready to let this go, “But the thing I find most peculiar about this situation is why Draco Malfoy is suddenly on your diplomatic team as your translator? I mean, I know that he’s been a potions and dark arts consultant for Harry and the aurors for years, but I just can’t see why on earth he would need to be on a diplomatic mission.”

“Well, you prat, you just answered your own question,” Harry officially loses his patience with Percy. “Draco’s skills are needed on a mission. It’s an economic summit, and they want to talk to not only representatives from the country, but people from the private sector who have benefitted from the economic initiatives, too. I don’t know if you read the papers, but there is a growing terrorist threat. My son could have died over the weekend, but thankfully he was home. Maybe, just maybe, I want to put a few skilled, yet unassuming wizards and witches on Hermione’s diplomatic team in case they get into a bit of trouble. I can’t reveal anymore as it’s confidential information. Percy, if you could get your head out of your arse and stop trying to tear Hermione down at every turn, maybe you would actually advance in your political career.”

Harry feels Hermione’s comforting hand on his shoulder, and she tells him, “That’s enough.”

“Yeah, Harry. That’s enough,” Ron interjects before he getting worked up as well.

“Merlin’s sake. Are you all really buying this?” Percy’s voice raises so loudly that the younger members of the family know something is the matter and make their way over to see what is going on.

Percy continues , “Does anyone else find it strange that Draco Malfoy, someone who has no Ministry affiliation or training with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, is accompanying our Minister for Magic on a diplomatic tour all over Europe? You could have picked anyone from the private sector to be your representative, Ernie McMillan, George, or even your protege, Finch-Fletchley. But you choose Malfoy—”

“Percy. Leave. It. Alone. I’ve already told you that Draco has another role in this mission to which the details are way above your security clearance,” Harry says through gritted teeth, though he isn’t sure how much longer he can continue covering for Hermione, despite there being truth to Draco’s involvement with the summit.

“Sorry. I’m not letting this go,” Percy throws a smug look at Harry and starts walking in small circles like a detective boastfully unraveling a mystery, “Hermione, what I find the most interesting is that your tour—your final tour of being minister—happens to coincide with the finalization of your divorce. You know, you were seen out with Draco Malfoy at this pub, without your husband, might I add, just a day after the party. I even heard rumors about you having a private dinner with both he and Blaise Zabini.”

Hermione is now breathing heavily and clenches her teeth. Ron leaves hers and Harry’s side and moves to stand next to Percy. How foolish she was to think this evening would end on a high note.

The wheels turn in Molly’s head. What Percy just said was jarring to the senses, but Molly is no idiot and walks towards her daughter-in-law. Through the thinnest of lips and with the most intense stare she asks Hermione, “Did you leave Ron for Draco Malfoy?”

“I didn’t leave Ron for anyone but _myself_ , but I _am_ with Draco now.” Hermione stands up straight, owning her decisions.

A hard smack comes across the minister’s face, knocking her head back. 

Everyone gasps. Even Ron’s anger melts into disbelief. Hermione cups her face in complete shock of her mother-in-law’s actions. Arthur runs to Molly’s side to prevent her from doing anything else hastily.

“You! How could you, Hermione? I thought you loved Ron! How could you betray your vows?” Molly wails, and you can feel the pain in her voice.

“Because Ron and I haven’t been in love with each other for years,” Hermione says as she rubs her face, “With or without Draco, I was going to leave Ron.”

“Molly, please calm down,” Arthur says to his wife, “Hermione, I think it’s best if you explain now, Hermione. Privacy has gone out of the window.”

“Ginny, Harry, and our kids all know that Ron and I have been in counseling for about ten years,” Hermione does the best to stay strong. Rose slips her hand in her mother’s for support. The gesture brings a smile and added strength to Hermione.

“Ten years?” Molly asks.

“Yes,” Hermione continues, “Ron and I worked so hard to make this work. Truly, we did. But we grew apart, and there was nothing that could bring us closer. Somewhere in that time, my friendship with Draco grew, and we never realized it was anything more until this weekend.”

She looks around and sees the mixed reactions on everyone’s faces.

“I for one think it’s disgusting and immoral. How could you betray the family like that?” Percy says.

“I swear to Merlin, how can you be so cruel and judgmental, Uncle Percy? You’re so self-righteous, but the thing is, you’re wrong ninety-five percent of the time,” Rose chimes in.   

“Rose, stay out of this,” her father warns her.

“No, Dad,” Rose says defiantly. “Everyone needs to know that Hugo and I begged both of you two to divorce years ago. It was miserable growing up with you fighting all the time. There were times we didn’t want to come home from school. Why do you think we spent so much time at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny’s? And it _wasn’t_ so that I could hang out with Scorpius.”

Ron breaks into a momentary smile at his daughter’s remark.

“Rosie, I think what your grandmother is most upset about is the fact that your mother waited so long to divorce your father and then starts a relationship with Malfoy so quickly,” Arthur reasons with his granddaughter.

“No. I’m cross with it all. Our family doesn’t divorce. Never. It doesn’t happen. You persevere, and you find a way,” Molly says indignantly.

“Mum, if you were in Hermione’s position, do you really think you could have lived with Dad for another hundred years in a loveless, angry, toxic marriage?” Bill asks his mother. “I want you to think about that. This is what knowing each other for almost forty years did to them. Do you think they could have survived another hundred? Do you think they wouldn’t try to find something to fill that emptiness at some point of another?”

Fleur nods her head in approval of her husband’s stance. She takes his hand and speaks, “We love Ronald, he is a kind and patient father, but his and Hermione’s time has passed. We need to let this go.”

“George, what do you have to say?” Percy insists.

“I already told you,” George gets right into Percy’s face and points a finger right at the bridge of his elder brother’s glasses, “It’s none of our business, and we shouldn’t be taking sides. This is so personal and intricate, and the fact that you are so excited about making our family miserable and airing out our laundry is despicable.”

Ron has been uneasily quiet as the family dissects his marriage, divorce and wife’s infidelity.

“She fell in love with another man while married to our brother. You can just let that go?” Percy says indignantly hoping to get a rise out Ron and his mother again.

“So what?” Angelina speaks up for the first time. “So what? We find love. We lose love. We find it again in an unexpected place. Hermione wasn’t trying to fall in love with Draco. But there was a hole in her heart that needed to be filled. You think I was trying to fall in love with my dead boyfriend’s brother?”

“Angelina, that’s different!” Molly interrupts her.

“How? How is it different? I knew I shouldn’t. It felt wrong—like a betrayal. But in the end, I had to put my past behind me and follow my heart.” Tears burn Angelina’s eyes as she buries her face in George’s chest.

Molly’s rage calms down, and she asks Hermione something calmly and clearly, “When did your problems with Ronald start to go downhill?”

“Sometime after the time-turner battle.” She answers honestly.

“When did you and Draco realize you were in love with each other?”

“Saturday night.”

Molly has an epiphany and her hand claps over her mouth. She slowly removes her hand and says, “The clock.”

“What do you mean, ‘the clock?’” Ron asks his mother, unable to understand her surprised tone.

“You and Hermione. You have been ‘lost’ on the family clock for years. I thought it was broken, but on Sunday, it said Hermione was home.” Molly said. The magic of the clock now made sense, though she didn’t like the answer it gave her. Draco Malfoy was 'home' to Hermione.

Whispers about what just transpired swirl around the room—how could they not? Whatever is going on between Hermione and Draco is beyond some illicit tryst.

It's evident Molly looks is shaken up. Arthur, ever doting upon his wife, even if she is in the wrong, attempts to comfort her. They exchange whispers to which Molly gives him a timid nod of the head, agreeing to his request. The Weasley patriarch announces, “Goodbye everyone. We’re going home.”

As this evening’s hosts, Albus, Scorpius, and Rose head to the front door to wish everyone well and thank them for joining.

Ron avoids Hermione's eyes and makes a beeline for the door. She thought they had made some real progress, but it looks like the road back to friendship is going to be much harder than that.

Hermione, Ginny, and Harry start walking in the direction of the crowd but stop at the bar.

—xoxox—

Polly is about to follow the family out Albus grabs her by the wrist and pulls her into his arms. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m just tired...and all of that.”

Albus feels guilty about having her be subject to his family's dirty laundry, but also remembers she is a reporter. “You’re not going to write about my family drama, are you?” He makes sure that his green eyes pierce her big brown ones with a pleading stare.

“Albus, I promise I won’t,” she forces a smile despite still feeling uncomfortable about the turn in events.

“Hey, I know tonight turned to shit. How about I make it up to you and I’ll take you somewhere for an unforgettable experience. Something that will challenge all your senses — taste, smell, sound, and touch?” He coyly puts his hands on her waist and ever-so-gently presses his hips against hers. “This is my last weekend before the restaurant opens, after all.”

“I’m listening.” She feels the heat coming over her face—and other parts of her body.

“How about fresh seafood in Sardinia, tapas and sangria in Barcelona, sizzling and steaming street food in Hanoi, or traditional kaiseki in Kyoto...”

Her ears perk up after mentioning the last destination, “We can go to Japan?”

“Have you never been?”

“No. I’ve also been dying to go to Osaka.”

“Then head home and start packing. It will be morning there soon.” The prospect of traveling somewhere exotic with Polly fills him with excitement and anticipation.

“So I’ll see you in about an hour?” Polly asks.

“Definitely.” He pushes her blue hair out of her face and gives her a soft goodbye kiss.

She looks back at him as she exits through the door.  

Slow clapping come from his father, brother, and Scorpius; Albus can’t help but smirk.

“That was smooth, Albus. Real smooth.” Scorpius teases his best friend.

“Foodie girls are great. They like to eat, drink, travel, and are, um, adventurous.” They catch his innuendo and roll their eyes.

“Son, I will never question your sorting ever again. That was impressive.” Harry is quite proud as he never had that confidence with women. Maybe he gave the middle name of Sirius to the wrong son.  

“Scorpius, will you lock up? It looks like I need to pack.” Albus can’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. Scorpius and James push him around playfully, and he heads up to his room above the pub.

Rose walks over and asks, “Where is Albus going?”

“He’s getting ready to take Polly for a weekend trip Japan,” Scorpius tells his fiancee.

“He’s what?” Rose looks thoroughly confused.

—xoxox—

Harry takes a seat next to Ginny and Hermione. The bartender puts three empty glasses and a whole bottle of single malt scotch whisky in front of the minister.  

Hermione pours the hard liquor into the glasses of her two closest confidantes. She raises a glass and toasts, “To being royally fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. That was rough. Sorry. It might be a little rocky for a while…
> 
> Also, want to know what Albus and Polly’s date in Japan will be like? What about James in Kurdistan? Because I will be periodically writing spin-off one-shots! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	21. Unstoppable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is out in the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Guest Writers:**   
>  I can’t even tell you how long I have been wanting to incorporate guest writers for this chapter’s format. Introducing the reporters:
> 
>   * Penny Halliwell aka Beachmomma77 [Tumblr](https://beachmomma77.tumblr.com/)
>   * A. Knight aka Mama2HPBabies [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mama2HPbabies/pseuds/mama2HPbabies) | [FFN](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8084331/mama2HPbabies) | [Tumblr](http://caspergirlie.tumblr.com/)
>   * Cathy Chatsworth and Sheppard Wolverton aka Saint Dionysus
> 


##  **March 2030**

“Stay still,” Draco says as he smears a healing salve on Hermione’s swollen cheek. “Honestly, why didn’t you put any ice on this?”

“Because I knew I was going to be spending the night with the best potioneer I know,” she tries to smile but winces in pain, “Ouch.”

Harry and Ginny shake their heads as they sit on a comfy sofa in Draco’s drawing room.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he says as he finishes up and kisses Hermione’s forehead. “Is it starting to work?”

“Yes. It feels cool and tingly,” she replies and fights the urge to touch the raw skin where her mother-in-law slapped her.

“Ginny, your mother, has quite the heavy hand—and vindictive streak,” Draco tells his friend. 

“It’s not vindictive. It’s protective. Never underestimate her. She did kill your aunt, after all,” Ginny says flippantly.

“Ouch, Gin. Ouch,” Draco says mock-offended. “Okay. How fucked up are our lives that we can just casually mention your mother killed my aunt? Oh, my crazy, fucking Auntie Bella. Watching your mother kill that bitch may have been the highlight of my childhood. You know...I never liked her after she used the Cruciatus on me. Not to mention all those years in Azkaban—I never did receive a decent Christmas present from that woman.”

Draco’s dark, sarcastic sense of humor isn't lost on the others. They attempt to stifle laughs at the wholly inappropriate joke. Hermione grimaces once more, “Don't make me laugh Draco. It hurts to smile! This potion isn’t working fast enough. I think I need more alcohol.”

“Yeah, we didn’t drink nearly enough at the pub,” Harry says, “We had to take off as soon as we saw this one’s face go puffy.”

Hermione shoots Harry an unamused look. Draco lifts her chin up inspecting the mark, “It may still sting, but the swelling has gone done substantially. We can re-apply in about fifteen minutes. Until then... _Jollie!_ ”

The house elf appears and asks him, “Yes, Master Draco. How can I help you?”

“Could you please bring a bottle of that gin I distilled a few weeks back, some tonic water, cucumbers, limes, and basil? Oh, and my cocktail kit,” he requests.

“Certainly,” acknowledging her master before popping away.

“So are we going to see Draco Malfoy, master mixologist?” Harry asks with a jibe.

“I’m actually taking a page out of  Albus’ book and mixing food and potions principles,” Draco says, surprising Harry and Ginny, “The juniper in gin, cucumber, and basil all have antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties, so not only are they great in a cocktail together, it will help Hermione’s swelling.”  

“My Albus is so smart!” Ginny beams, ever the proud parent.

“ _And_ taking Polly to Japan right now,” Harry adds smugly.

 _“He’s what?”_ Ginny blinks, unbelieving what her husband just said.

Draco and Hermione look at each other, intrigued at what his protege and her favorite nephew, is up to.

“Well, our boy promised he would take Polly to Japan if she didn’t say anything about what happened at the pub. It was pretty impressive the way he did it,” Harry shrugs, moving closer to his wife and wrapping an arm around her waist,  “It’s a good thing you fell in love with me when you were ten because I definitely don’t have moves like that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ginny says before jabbing him in the ribs.

“Well if Albus is in Japan, there are a few things I want him to pick up,” Draco mentions and starts texting.

“What do you want him to get?” Hermione’s curiosity piques as she notices how guarded Draco is of his mobile screen.  

“Just a few potions ingredients, some specialty tools, and sake—items that have a huge markup here because of shipping and taxes,” he answers her very nonchalantly while still texting, attempting to throw off her suspicion.

She doesn't buy it as the text exchange continues.

Jollie returns with the ingredients. Draco thanks her and sets to crafting the cocktails. The herbaceous cocktail with its clean, crisp flavours is refreshing with just the right amount of kick. The group chats and recall the events of the evening. After a few rounds, Hermione’s cheek is healed, and they are more than a bit tipsy.

“Draco,” Harry slurs, “How far we have come. I used to fucking hate you, and you used to hate me. But now you’re my friend. My friend with very, very good taste in booze. Once my nemesis, then my son’s mentor, and now the guy my best friend is shagging. Hermione Granger is shagging Draco Malfoy. Hermione. Draco. Draco. Hermione. Do you think the papers are going to give you one of those funny combined celebrity names like—” he pauses to burp, “Damn. You distilled that gin yourself? I did not pay enough attention in potions.” Harry is so sunken into the sofa, it doesn’t look like he would be able to lift himself out.

“Okay, Potter, you can do one of two things,” Draco is surprised that Harry can’t handle gin as well as he does whisky. “One, you can take a sobering potion and floo home, because you are in no condition to apparate. Two, you sleep in one of the spare rooms.”

“Fuck getting sober,” Ginny says, “Point the way, Draco.”

“Alright, but I’m levitating you both to the room. What about you?” He looks Hermione with a an eager look.

“I’m good. Just a little—tense,” she gives him a wink, but Harry and Ginny are far too drunk to notice at all.

“Good,” he growls in her ear. “Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Time for bed.”

With a wave of Draco’s wand, the couple is sleepily floating toward one of the many spare rooms of the mansion. He turns to Hermione and cups her face in his hand. He gently brushes her cheek with his thumb. They lose themselves caught in each other’s gaze. His eyes are sad and full of regret. “I don’t like you getting hurt on my account. You had more than enough of that for a lifetime.”

Her lip slightly trembles knowing that no matter how many years have passed, Draco still harbors so much guilt. She turns her head and kisses his palm but still tries to defend her soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law, “Molly is incredibly protective of her children.”  

“She still didn’t have the right to hurt you like this.” Anger starts to build in Draco’s chest. “I can understand a heated argument, but striking you? That's uncalled for. She should apologize to you. If not, I'll convince her to.”

“Draco, don’t. Her own magic revealed a truth,” Hermione rests her head on his chest and explains the clock. “They say, ‘home is where the heart is’ and so if being with you brought me home, you have my heart completely.”

Hermione can’t wipe the joyous smile from her face as tears roll down her cheek. It was true. She loved him more than she ever thought possible. From the age of eleven-years-old, they understood magic could see deep into your subconscious—revealing attributes about yourself you didn’t even know you possessed. The kind of magic in that clock is powerful and feels bonds between people beyond the physical plane. The clock’s revelation was mysterious. Draco had already accepted that he was in love with her and knew she loved him back, but the fact that their magic is connected in a measurable way gives him a sense of peace. He can’t help but press his lips to hers, knowing that this was meant to be.

* * *

 **MINISTER ANNOUNCES SPLIT  
** **By: Cathy Chatsworth**

After years of speculation and public rows, the Minister for Magic has filed divorce against her husband of more than twenty-five years. Many of our readers know of the harrowing adventures, and misadventures for that matter, that led to the coupling of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Representatives for the couple say that the divorce is mutual and the split of the estate and assets was amicable. Our sources say that it had been trouble in paradise for several years and that there may be additional variables involved for the sudden divorce announcement.

The minister has assured that the dissolution of her marriage has no connection to her not seeking re-election nor will it have any weight on her completing her final term in office.

For more on this topic, go to section C1 of the Society Pages.

* * *

 **GOLDEN TRIO DISBANDED  
** By: Sheppard Wolverton

The band has officially broken up. The heroes and heroine of the Battle of Hogwarts, better known as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, are no longer a trio. After Ron Weasley had ended his time as auror only a few years after accepting the post, rumors have swirled that not all was well. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger continued to rise in the ranks of the Ministry at an exponential rate. Before reaching the ages of forty, Mr. Potter had reached the highest post in the Ministry for Law Enforcement and Defense, and Ms. Granger was elected to the highest office in the land.

Mr. Weasley has gone on record on more than one occasion that he disliked his best friend and wife’s dealings within the ministry, despite the overwhelming positive change they had made in their tenure. The announcement of the Minister’s divorce filing only confirms how distant the trio had become.

Sources say that Mr. Weasley and Minister Granger’s divorce may have been influenced by Mr. Potter and his wife, Mr. Weasley’s sister, Ginny Potter.

For more on this topic, go to section A2  of the Front Page section

* * *

 **WITCH WEEKLY'S OUT AND ABOUT  
** **By Penny Halliwell**

 **COUTURE AND COFFEE**  
London — When the Minister of Magic isn’t on duty, she takes her daughter shopping. _Wedding dress shopping that is._  
  
Hermione Granger and her daughter Rose were spotted in the exclusive Mayfair shopping district to browse the designer muggle gowns. They were given the option to view the bridal line of couturiers Jenny Packham, Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen, and Stella McCartney, amongst others. The Mother-daughter pair spent the most time in Jenny Packham, where they conversed with the designer herself over tea and biscuits while browsing the Spring-Summer collection.  
  
When asked about the mother-daughter pair, our source confirms Ms. Packham was positively enthralled with the duo. She described the pair as a “breath of fresh air.” The prestigious designer—who has dressed Princess Catherine of Wales since she was Duchess, and now her young daughter, Princess Charlotte—did not disclose any information about the conversations that took place in her private viewing room; however, our source was able to pick up that the wedding is to be held indoors. No location has been set, but privacy will be paramount. The pair left the shop and stopped by for iced coffee.  
  
**SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE**  
London — Royal blue boxes tied with white satin ribbons were on top of the purchases that the Malfoys made Friday morning. Businessman and consultant, Draco Malfoy, and his son Scorpius were seen shopping for jewelry at several stores in Bond Street before they stepped in Morgana’s, where the rarest jewelry can be found.  
  
The younger Malfoy informed us that it’s customary for grooms in their family to present their brides with jewelry before the wedding. He added that it was his future grandmother-in-law who suggested shopping at Morgana’s as a tribute to Rose’s muggle heritage.  
  
Our sources confirmed that the younger Malfoy purchased a beautiful pair of sapphire earrings and a necklace for his fiancée, while his father was said to have purchased an emerald set. This makes us wonder if the debonair widower has also found a new lady love.  
  
Scorpius Malfoy is engaged to the Minister of Magic’s daughter, Rose Weasley. No details about the wedding have been disclosed by either party. 

* * *

 **HERMIONE GRANGER & DRACO MALFOY: OFFICIALLY AN ITEM  
** **By: Cathy Chatsworth**

Amongst the swirling of rumours about the Minister’s divorce, an official statement from Minister Granger and Mr. Malfoy’s representatives has been released. The couple has been friends for several years but did not take any steps into forming a romantic relationship until the minister had filed for divorce. As the relationship is new, they request privacy.

* * *

 **WEASLEY FOUND DRUNK AND DISORDERLY  
** **By A. Knight**

Sources report that one Ronald Weasley was picked up by members of Magical Law Enforcement two nights ago. Eye-witnesses who saw Mr. Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron report that he ordered a bottle of Ogden’s Best Firewhisky and nursed it for most of the night.  
  
Around 23:00, Mr. Weasley began yelling at another patron and attempted to assault him. Other patrons kept Mr. Weasley from doing anything further until the MLE hit wizards arrived to escort him away. This reporter can’t help but wonder if the fact that the other patron, a Mr. Smith, sports blond hair had anything to do with the altercation…

 

* * *

**WHAT THE CHILDREN THINK!  
** **By A. Knight**

Many have wondered how Rose Granger-Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are coping with the news of their parents getting together. We are happy to report that an insider close to the couple reports the two are on edge.

“I wouldn't be surprised if they called the wedding off,” says the insider. “Both have been acting erratic, and it seems this affair is the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.” Pansy Parkinson, a close family friend of the Malfoys, says, “Scorpius is furious with his father. Little Scorpius and I have always had a strong bond, he was able to come to me when he particularly missed his mother. I know he always hoped that his father and I would get together after he lost his mother at such a young age. Hopefully, Draco knows what’s important in his life.”

Scorpius was seen storming from the chambers of a Hogwarts Governors’ meeting earlier this week, and while members said it was a confidential matter they could not discuss, this reporter wonders if it had anything to do with a little trouble in Malfoy paradise. Ms. Granger-Weasley has been seen out and about at a number of stores during work hours. Perhaps these two occurrences have more in common than we think. Are the Slythernerd and Gryffindork on the brink of losing their jobs and their families?

* * *

 **WHO KNEW IT?** _ **A look at the Dramione Romance**  
_ **By A. Knight**

It seems the Minister for Magic is creating waves, but this time, it's her personal life rather than her politics. Minister Granger and Mr. Malfoy have announced that their relationship didn’t start until after divorce proceeding had already begun. However, insiders close to the couple have revealed that is not quite true.

It seems that some family members saw that this was inevitable.

“Draco’s has had this bizarre fascination with her, and I think it’s because she slipped him a love potion at the engagement party because she wants to break up their kids,” says Pansy Parkinson, who attended the younger Malfoy’s engagement party as a guest of Marcus Flint, manager for the Appleby Arrows, not receiving an invitation herself.  
  
A family member who wished to remain unnamed, also a senior official in the ministry, went on record saying, “It strikes me as suspicious that Mr. Malfoy would be so well invested in many of the economic happenings over the years if he didn’t have special insider information.”  
  
Other family members were particularly tight-lipped about the topic which this reporter finds somewhat suspicious… 

* * *

 **THE MINISTER’S MID-LIFE CRISIS  
** **By: Sheppard Wolverton**

The political pundits are shocked the most successful, revolutionary, and well-liked Minister for Magic is stepping down. The gossip columnists are trying to dig up every detail of the divorce of the beloved school sweethearts and hero and heroine of the Second Wizarding War.  The housewives are eating up every bit of the minister’s love triangle and her forbidden tryst with Draco Malfoy. But one has to ask, is the Minister losing her edge? Will her illustrious career and contributions to Wizardkind be marred by the what appear to be rash decisions of a fifty-year-old ready to snap? The Daily Prophet attempts to break down the minister’s motives and reasoning for the massive life changes...

* * *

**April 2030**

“Bollocks! All of this is Bollocks!” Scorpius screams as he paces back and forth, in the study of the Malfoy townhouse, smacking the rolled up newspapers and magazines against his leg. More than two weeks have passed since the tasting at the pub, and things were tense as ever. The paparazzi hounded anyone connected to Hermione and Draco. 

Rose is too distracted by her piles of colored note cards to pay her fiance mind. “Okay, I think I have the guest list sorted. The red pile are my relatives, the green pile are your relatives, the pink are our school friends, the mint are your dad’s friends, the yellow are my parents school friends, the blue are associates from the Ministry and Hogwarts professors, the orange are celebrities and quidditch players, and purple are members of the media. And the best part about this system is we’ll be able to use it to track gifts and work on seating assignment. Cho said we have to finalize our guest list before we can start looking at venues. ”

“Rosie, have you not heard a word I said?” Scorpius says a little annoyed.

“Yes, babe. The tabloids are spreading horseshit about our parents. Big deal. We knew this was going to happen and we have a wedding to plan.” She flips through the cards, double and triple checking the names.

“No, Rose. Truth time. You’re doing that thing you always do when you are stressed out. You go to the muggle office supply store and buy sticky paper and every manner of colored stationery, cellophane sleeves, and binders. You try and distract yourself with organization, but it’s not going to fool me,” he walks behind her chair and kisses the top of her head. Scorpius then begins to massage Rose’s shoulders, “It’s getting to you. It’s all over your face.”

Her head turns to give Scorpius a half-smile. She gets out of her seat and coaxes him to take her place as she sits in his lap. “Scorp, I don’t know why I even pretend. You see through all my neuroses. Yes, this whole thing is blowing up in our faces. The reporters, the false information, my family is still divided. Not to mention the constant murmurs at the ministry—it’s making me mental.”

“Me too. Someone followed me into the loo today to ask me questions about my dad.”

“What did you do?”

“Threatened him.”

“And?”

“I reminded them they were on Ministry property. Interviews were permissible in the atrium or by scheduling an appointment through my assistant. He then continued with his interrogation, so I petrified him and called the aurors to escort him out.”

“You didn’t!”

“You know you would have done the same thing.”

“Yes, but that’s me. You’re much more level-headed than I am.”

“Well, with the refugee situation, your parents' divorce, my father and your mother engaged in a ‘forbidden tryst’—Merlin, these fucking reporters—and planning this wedding,” he holds Rose a bit tighter, “I’m getting short with everyone. Maybe I could use a release,” He says suggestively shifting her bottom so she could feel his growing bulge.

“Slow down, Slythernerd. We’re still talking,” Rose tries to keep a straight face, but the truth is she might benefit from a little break, too. “You asked me what was wrong, and I’m not done.”

“You’re right. Continue, my love,” Scorpius kisses her cheek and runs his fingers reassuringly up and down her back.

“What is even more frustrating is that our parents are so, so—used to this. None of them seem fazed by this at all!” Rose is truly perplexed by the situation. Her mind and body are at odds. She runs her fingers through her hair trying to make sense of the situation, but the rest of her body melts under her future husband’s touch, “Scorp. You are intentionally distracting me.”

“You shouldn’t have sat on my lap—in a short dress.”

“Fair. But I need you right now. Be my nerdy, problem-solving, looks at all the details Scorpius, and I promise there will be a reward later.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

Rose kisses him and drags her teeth on his bottom lip, “Damn your lips are so sexy.”

“Rose. You’re sending me mixed signals.”

“Oh, right. Sorry," she takes a moment to collect her thoughts. "Okay. Our parents. Yeah.” Rose says getting flustered and not sure she even wants to finish the conversation, “So my mum, dad, and your dad have dealt with so much negative press in their lives, this is normal for them. It’s bizarre. You know what my mum said?”

“What?”

“The paps aren’t nearly as bad as they were after the war!”

“She said that?”

“Yes! Ugh. Scorp. I feel like such a spoilt brat. Whinging on about how annoying this situation is. The truth is we have it so much easier than they did. I’m here stressing out over who’s coming to our wedding and who sits where. Our parents? They’re all fearless and don’t give two shits about what anyone says. They defeated one of the most formidable dark wizards of all time before they graduated from Hogwarts. What I was doing at that age?”

“Me in the the Head’s common room,” he says as his hands wander again.  

“Scorpius…” She tries to ignore the immature joke, but she’s not sure how much longer she can resist his advances.

“Yes?” he says as he brushes his fingers up and down her back.

“Okay, it’s obvious we aren’t going to have a decent conversation about our parents,” Rose says as she loses faith that Scorpius can find his focus, “Help me go through this guest list, then you can help me out of this dress.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—okay, I’m deflecting. Yeah, I feel the same way. The way our parents are just so nonchalant about the press—it is incredible and intimidating. They are almost— _graceful?_ I guess that is a good way to describe it. We just need to be as tough as they are and deal with it. I know we can.” He tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and gives her another kiss. Scorpius reaches over and picks up one of the stacks of cards, “So who are we looking at here?”

“Celebrities. Quidditch players, musicians, authors,” Rose rolls her eyes.

“You don’t seem happy to invite them. So why are we, exactly?”

“I thought this is the thing you do when your mother is the Minister for Magic.”

“Guess what? We’ll have another minister by the time our wedding rolls around.”

“We will, won’t we?”

“Yup. So let’s see if there’s anyone we want to keep from this stack,” Scorpius starts flipping through the stack of cards. “Nope. No. Definitely not. What! Why the fuck are the McLaggens invited to our wedding?”

“Declan went to school with us, and his dad owns the Chudley Cannons and has given us free season passes for about a decade,” Rose says but notices Scorpius sneering—a very un-Scorpius-like facial expression. “Babe, you look like your dad right now.”

“Rose, Declan has been trying to break us up for years. My dad also told me a little secret about your mum and Dick-laggen senior—they were together before your parents became an item. He’s been showering your mother with gifts to get her attention ever since.”

“Isn’t that what your father did, too?”

“Not the point,” Scorpius was too flustered to defend his father. “I’m taking this ‘no pile’ and—oops,” he lights the cards in his hand on fire with wandless magic.

“My cards!” Rose exclaims

“Okay next pile. Actually, let’s combine these two. Family and friends of the Malfoy Family,” Scorpius says while reading the dark green and mint colored cardstock, “No, no, no. Blaise Zabini? I actually like him, wife’s fit, too. Uncle Theo and Aunt Daphne, yes. My cousins Simon and Arabella, they’re good too. Of course, Grandpa Carson and Granny Helen.”

“It was a shame they couldn’t make to the engagement party,” Rose has only met Scorpius’s maternal grandparents on one other occasion, his graduation from Hogwarts. After Astoria’s death, they moved to Greece to enjoy their remaining years surrounded by the ocean and sunshine. Scorpius could only spend two weeks over summer holidays visiting them as the Mediterranean sun was too much for his fair complexion.

“Yeah, they’re just getting on, and magical travel is harder on their bodies than coming by train—which takes forever. Okay, next. Pansy Parkinson? How did she get in this stack?”

“Oh, shit. That was supposed to be a black card—do not let in under any circumstances,” Rose says shocked she let something slip through her system.

“Good. That cow basically tried to give my dad a hand job at Mum’s funeral. She’s a slanderous cunt at that,” Scorpius says with growing anger in his voice, “The rest of this stack is full of aristocratic purebloods who were quick to hang my family out to dry and pretend they weren’t also sympathizers. But you know what, my family actually defected mid-battle and still fought,” once again, Scorpius sets note cards ablaze with Rose looking on in horror as her hard work and expert organization skills go up in smoke. “These people hid in their castles and refused to be honest and pay for what they did.”

Scorpius reaches for the ministry pile next, “Okay, another lot of people I don’t want at our wedding.”

“But Scorpius, these are people we work with. Influential people that will ensure our rise up the ranks,” Rose says, sounding more like a Slytherin than her fiance at the moment.

“We don’t need them to come to our wedding,” Scorpius gets suddenly giddy and describes his scheme with gusto, “I already have it all planned out. Justin is going to be elected as the next minister, because, let’s face it, who could possibly win against him? He’s going to need to appoint a cabinet. Your mum already said he wants his cabinet half women, half men, half junior and half senior members of the ministry. We already have an in with me in education and you in economics and trade. We serve under Justin for a few terms, then when he’s ready to step down, I’ll be the next minister until our youngest goes off to Hogwarts, then I’ll step down so you can be minister and I’ll become the next headmaster. It’s the perfect plan.”

Rose just smiles and stares at Scorpius as he rants and goes on about his big plans. This is the boy she fell in love with. Her easily excitable, forever planning, ambitious, Slythernerd. “You’re so cute when you go on your rants.”

“And you’re gorgeous all the time,” Scorpius feels his heart beating a little bit faster, partly because of the rapid fire way he rattled off his career goals, but also that a plan he formulated when he was eleven to marry the woman on his lap is coming to fruition. “Rose, if we didn’t work in for the Ministry, and Hermione wasn’t Minister, and we didn’t have to deal with any of that war hero nonsense, what kind of wedding do you really want? Your parents got married under a marquee in your grandparents garden surrounded by loved ones and no celebrities other than themselves. My parents were wed in a little chapel in France, and the whole village came out to celebrate them, even though they were strangers. There are so many kinds of weddings. What do you want? Because me, I would marry you tomorrow in my pajamas or starkers. I don’t care as long as you say ‘I do.’”

Rose starts to laugh imagining Scorpius naked in the middle of a church. A childhood memory makes its way forward and inspires her. “Smallish wedding. No more than one-hundred-fifty people. Mostly family and a few friends. Little chapel in the country surrounded by rolling hills. Reception in a library.” She is gets lost in the fantasy and Scorpius sees a glow come over her and smiles as his fiancee continues, “Once, my muggle grandparents took me to a grand library in Edinburgh. I remember them telling us the library was closing early as they needed to set up for a wedding. I was mesmerized. It was _so perfect_. Celebrating a marriage surrounded by hundreds of years of love stories. There were gold chairs and tall candelabras. Roses. So many white roses. Oh and the smell of the food...and cake...”

“I want that.”

Rose snaps out of her daydream, “Want what?”

“Roses, a library, away from London, smaller guest count—all of it. It sounds perfect.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,” he kisses her passionately and lifts her up onto the desk and knocks all the cards on the ground.

“You have no respect for my organization,” she mutters while unbuttoning his shirt.

“You know you love to reorganize. Besides, you’ll have to come up with a new system now that we know what we want,” he says as he unzips her dress, “how about right now, we start rehearsing the wedding night.”

“You’re assuming there’s a desk in the hotel room.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	22. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione deals with the backslash of the press in the best way possible. Also, fun duel stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this chapter, it was as the Obama Administration was in its final days. I watched interviews and listened to speeches by President Obama, Vice President Biden, First Lady Michelle Obama, and Dr. Jill Biden. There was such a high level of grace and intelligence in which they have handled impossible situations and are departed with elegance and the appreciation of so many citizens. Between this, and the Hamilton Mixtape/Original Broadway cast recording, I wanted Hermione to handle her scandals in the most poised way possible. I hope you enjoy.

## April 2030

Harry has a wicked smile creeping across his face as he taps his wand against his leg. He crosses the length of the auror dueling gym, walking between two rows of witches and wizards anxiously awaiting his instructions. The politicians and diplomats stand to his left while his aurors are on his right. Hermione stands with her arms crossed, looking clearly annoyed. She can tell Harry is enjoying his current authority over her. She’s wearing form-fitting, black, athletic leggings with a purple long-sleeve running top, and purple and gray trainers. Draco is standing next to her in a charcoal, heather gray, half-zip pullover, fitted track pants, and black and neon green trainers.

He leans over and whispers in her ear, “Your bum is absolutely distracting. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this training session.”

She suppresses her laughter and tells him, “Shh.”

Harry turns around and cocks an eyebrow in Malfoy’s direction.  A hush comes over the group, and Harry begins to speak. “Alright. We have a group of desk jockeys—”

Hermione shoots him a look that could kill. “ _And_ the Minister—”

Draco now clears his throat. “ _And_ Mister Malfoy.”

Harry eyes the rest of the group, “Any more interruptions? No? Good. As we know, an important diplomatic tour is coming up in the next few weeks. It’s also Minister Granger’s farewell tour, of sorts. On top of that, we’re at a high terror threat level. Aurors, it’s our job to get the diplomatic team into fighting form.”

The aurors exchange smug glances, while the diplomatic team, rolls their eyes. Harry continues, “But don’t go easy on them. The last time I put the Minister through this exercise, she filled an entire ward at St. Mungo’s with aurors. Mr. Malfoy is a decent duelist but where he excels is his agility.” Hermione sniggers and Harry just shakes his head, unbelieving she chooses now of all times to find innuendos in his speech. “Miss Allie Traynor, the minister’s junior assistant, was captain of Ravenclaw dueling team, class of 2021. Bested my son, and fellow auror, James, on more than one occasion. I’m still upset that you chose to work for the minister and not take the invitation to join my program.”

“Sorry, Mr. Potter. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work for Hermione Granger,” the young woman says casually.

“I guess you’re not always ‘The Chosen One,’ eh Potter?” Malfoy says smugly.

Harry doesn’t play into Draco’s jib. Instead, the mischievous smile on Harry’s face grows broader, “Alright. Rules. No apparition. We have no idea if you’ll be in locations that will have wards preventing apparition and disapparation. Secondly, I don’t think I need to say this, but no Unforgiveables. Occlumency and Legilimency _are_ allowed. Get in the mind of your enemy if you can. If you fall, are petrified, break a bone, or are unable to continue dueling, we have referees and healers on the sidelines to remove and attend to you. Lastly, if anyone manages to take down either Mister Malfoy or Minister Granger, I will give you one hundred galleons out of my own personal vault.” His aurors look more confident than ever, but the diplomats look at each other already knowing they are underestimated and will use that to their advantages. 

“And if anyone takes out Potter, I’ll give you one hundred-fifty galleons,” Draco says to sweeten the pot.

Harry takes his place on the auror side across from Draco and next to his godson.

Hermione faces the turquoise-haired young man and says, “Teddy, I had phoenix tears sent to your house.”

“What?” he asks quizzically.

“I knew with the baby, you would need to heal fast and not be in St. Mungo’s recovery wing,” she winks.

Teddy shakes his head at Hermione’s insult while she stands with her wand poised at the ready.

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy says, recalling the first time they dueled each other, but can’t keep a straight face.

“You wish,” Harry replies, also unable to suppress his laugh.

Harry points his wand upward, and a clock made of sparks begins to count down. When the clock hits zero, it explodes, signaling the battle started. The gymnasium erupts with a flurry of charms, shimmering shields, curses, and jinxes. Sparks fly past their faces, flames nearly singe hair, and ropes bind those not quick to react. While there are indeed members of her team that aren’t as adept at defense against the dark arts, Hermione, Draco, and Allie are holding their own just fine.

“Fancy a dance?” Draco says as he twirls Hermione and they switch dueling partners. By this time the playing field has been leveled and they are now three on three.

“Harry, this reminds me of DA meetings,” she says with a smile as she attempts to petrify Harry.

“Yeah,” he shoots flames at her and she deflects, “but it was a lot easier when you were on my team.”

They exchange a few more curses and blocks, but they hear simultaneous bangs. Allie and her dueling partner are thrown to opposite sides of the gym. Hermione momentarily loses her concentration, and so does Teddy. Harry sees this and raises his wand to disarm her but in one quick movement, Draco petrifies his younger cousin and summons Hermione to his side.

The crowd collects and you can hear the sounds of “Ooh” and “Uh oh” and “Potter’s in for it now.”

Harry holds his arms out to his sides and cockily says, “Bring it.”

The battle royale looks more like a choreographed dance than a wand fight. The three weave in and out of each other’s way. They all look like the adrenaline is about to run out when Harry says, “Keep up, old man.”

Draco smirks at the snide remark, “We’re the same age, Potter.”

“I wear it better,” Harry replies.

“In your dreams, Harry,” Hermione jabs. “Besides I’m older than both of you and am by far the fittest.”

“Not going to argue that, love,” Draco says admiring her from the corner of his eye, “Alright, this has gone on long enough.” He shoots a bubblehead charm at Hermione and himself. He then pulls a bottle out of his pocket, drops it at Harry’s feet, and shoots a spell shattering the glass. A green vapor swirls and makes its way up to Harry’s nose. The head of Magical Law Enforcement sways back and forth then falls backward, unconscious.

Hermione looks shocked, impressed, and aroused at the same time. Draco knows that look and gives her a wink to let her know that he caught that. With a few waves of his wand, he makes the mist, drops of liquid, and shattered glass disappear. He removes his bubblehead charm, to which Hermione then realizes it’s safe to remove her own. Draco bends down to Harry and pulls out another vial. The potions master uncorks the amber glass and waves under the auror’s nose until he revives.

“You bastard,” Harry coughs out. Hermione licks her lips and smiles trying not to be a sore winner.

“You never said ‘ _no potions_ ,’ Harry,” Draco points out the loophole.

“Damn, I didn’t. Okay, you win,” Harry says, taking Draco’s hand as he makes his way off the padded floor.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Draco says relishing Harry’s defeat.

“You. Win.” Harry says with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He rolls his shoulders nursing his wounds, “Hit the showers. I’ll see you for a debrief in MLE chamber four at half past eleven. Once dismissed, you may go back to your regular schedules.”

Hermione and Draco opt to use the shower in her office over the communal aurors’ shower and locker room. Harry sees them head off together and runs over and cuts them off. “I mean it. Half past eleven. You two don’t have time.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, upset that Harry could already predict her and Draco’s motives for wanting to shower in private. Harry nods and heads toward the direction of his office.

Once out of sight, Draco leans over to Hermione, “I could be quick.”

“I don’t want quick. I’d rather wait,” she says while running her hand down his leg.

He gulps and struggles to say, “Minister Granger. I don’t think I can wait if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

They walk into the empty lift and close the gate behind them and Draco hits the button to the first floor. She waves her wand and halts the carriage. Her fingers walk up his chest and tug at the zipper of his pullover, “I changed my mind. Quick works.”

“Hermione, it’s only one floor,” his tone isn’t quite what she expected and sounds unsure and hesitant. He holds her by her wrists and kisses her knuckles, “I would love to. Believe me. In a lift is most definitely a bucket list item. But this is the Ministry. You know how easy it is to get caught. We really can't afford another scandal. Once we get into your office, we’re in the clear.”

She can’t help but be a little disappointed. _The press must be finally getting to him_ , she thinks to herself. “You’re right. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, I know what came over you. Don’t think I don’t want to. We’ll just have to work on a better location and timing,” he reassures her with soft, playful kisses.

She waves her wand, and the lift starts moving again. A new sense of nagging tugs at her as she rests her head on his shoulder until the gates open.

—xoxox—

At the debrief, Harry discusses diplomatic tour and everyone’s roles and responsibility leading up to the mission. Rigorous training and testing will continue three times a week in various fields. He explains that today was an assessment and some of other members of Hermione’s team failed miserably in combat while they excelled in other skills. He then passes out reports with schedules. Draco, Hermione, and Allie easily passed the dueling proficiency but still needed to come in for an hour of conditioning to stay sharp.  Everyone needs to attend Occlumency and Legilimency training. Harry is quite stern about this despite skeptical looks. The fact he is able to tell the entire diplomatic team what they had for breakfast, and that he knows why Draco and Hermione were late to return to the meeting, further proves his point. Draco shakes his head in disappointment at Hermione knowing that his Occlumency shields were up. Being a potions master, naturally, Draco is excused from potions and poison identification. The rest of the team stays behind for that evaluation while he moves on to additional language and diplomacy training.

As Draco is about to leave, he gives Hermione a quick squeeze of her hand and heads off. Absentmindedly, she touches her lips, wishing she had received a more public display of affection.

—xoxox—

After a long day of training and meetings, Hermione and Draco soak in his luxurious, Roman tub, surrounded by fragrant bubbles. He sits on a lower step in front of her, submerged deeper so she could easily run her fingers through his sudsy locks.

“Mmm. This is so relaxing. Can you wash my hair every day?” Draco is lost in soothing sensation of being lovingly groomed.

Hermione takes a pitcher and slowly pours the warm water over his head to rinse. “Not unless you put a stool in the shower or you plan on bending down every day. I don’t think you will find it too comfortable.”

“Probably not. Are you done rinsing?” He asks deepening the tone of his voice.

“Yes…” She catches his meaning and he turns around and places his hands on her thighs and slowly kneads and massages them.

“Oh that feels heavenly. I guess we really pushed ourselves at training today, huh?” Hermione relishes in Draco’s caressing touch. “I haven’t been this sore since, well...”

“Since when?”

“Our first night together,” She wistfully recalls. His memory doesn’t fail him as it was less than a month ago when their physical relationship began. He continues massaging her legs and then feet. Her pleasurable moans and purrs are like music to his ears. She almost wants to completely submit and let the euphoria take over, but something from earlier is still bothering her.  “Draco, I can’t help but notice you were a bit more guarded today.”

He sighs knowing that nothing gets past woman. With a quick yank of her ankle, Hermione is pulled through the water and her legs are wrapped around him. She wraps her arms around his neck as he walks them to a deeper part of the tub. “It’s true. The press is getting worse and worse. I didn’t want to give them any more fuel for the fire.”

“I was afraid that was why.” She presses her forehead to his. “It’s getting bad. I’ve been trying to stay strong and not let it get to me, but it’s gotten bad for the kids too.”

“I know. Scorpius was telling me how he was so proud of how well we handle this and that he and Rose are going to work harder at being that tough,” his tone sounding conflicted. “If he only knew how furious I am and how close I am to carrying out a hit list.”

“Draco!”

“I’m not going to kill anyone. Maim but never kill,” he says with a smirk. That phrase sounds incredibly familiar but he can’t quite remember where from.

She shakes her head, knowing there is a half-truth to his words and asks, “Would you believe me if I told you I’m starting to crack, too?”

Draco looks at her skeptically, “Hermione Granger, cracking under pressure?”   

“Oh, don't use that tone with me,” she sounds slightly irked, but being wrapped in his naked embrace and the warm water prevents her from getting too annoyed. “It just seems to be getting worse and worse.”

He leaves a trail of kisses starting behind her ear, down the side of her neck to her clavicle and says, “Well, I seem to recall a long time ago, when I was a miserable git—”

“You’re not now?” she cuts him off.

He buries his face in her glistening chest with tiny bubbles popping against her skin, “Shush, you. When I _was_ a terrible shit in fourth year, I fed lies to a certain reporter,” his hands continue to roam her body as he tells his story, “because I was insanely jealous that the girl I fancied was dating the most famous quidditch player in the world and was best friends with my nemesis.”

“Oh, really. That miserable git fancied me even though he hexed me and made me look worse than a beaver?” She playfully slides off of him and starts swimming away.

“You know that was meant for Potter and I’m sorry. Come back here!” He starts treading water and she starts splashing him, attempting to slow him down. After struggling to catch his slippery witch, Draco finally has her in his arms again and he takes her back to the steps. “I thought you were done playing hard to get.”

“Hardly,” she snuggles under his arm and trails her finger down his chest to his belly button, completely forgetting what Draco was trying to tell her.

Though Draco would love to keep playing in the bath with his lady love, he was trying to make a point. “Woman! Can you focus? I’m trying to be a supportive partner right now. There was a reason I brought up fourth year.”

“Fine. Please, ‘supportive partner,’ continue.”

“Do you remember how you put a stop to the gossip?”

“I put Rita Skeeter in a jar.”

“I was going to say you influenced the media.”

“You snakes always have a way with manipulating the facts.”

“Editing the narrative.”

Hermione thinks about that phrase, “Hmm. Editing the narrative. I like that. Go on.”

“You stopped Skeeter from spreading lies. A year later you had her expose the Ministry and prove Potter was telling the truth about the Dark Lord’s return. After the war, you helped Harry exonerate Professor Snape, and you even helped me get back into the public’s good graces,” he tilts her chin so their eyes, “Hermione, you know what you need to do.”

“I need to set the record straight.”

“Yes, and I’ll be there for you. Every step of the way,” he says this with complete sincerity.

“How do you keep doing that?”

“What?”

“Make me love you more.”

With a sly smile, he guides her to straddle his waist. Their gentle kisses become feverish. The soft brushing of tongues heightens their craving for each other. Over the past few weeks, she discovered his weaknesses, specifically when her nails gently scratch his scalp and tug his hair. He’s discovered a few of hers as well, including the position they are currently in. He should have known a control freak like Hermione would enjoy being on top, but he loves this position as well. He squeezes and parts her arse cheeks and guides himself slowly inside of her. Moans escape them both, and she takes the lead. She takes a slow rhythm as not to splash too much water everywhere.

The bath water is cooling so he uses wandless magic and produces warm bubbles around them. His strong hands slide up and down her back easily with the aid of the soapy water. He bucks in the same rhythm of her gyrations. Draco grabs the back of her head and tilts her neck, exposing her pulse point. He gently sucks and nips as she increases the pace. With his hand still behind her head and her hands in his hair, they pull each other nose-to-nose. Unable to say anything, their mouths are parted as they breathe heavily and share each other’s oxygen.

As she nears her climax, she’s no longer concerned about how much water is splashed around. There is something about being surrounded by water and the sound of slapping skin that excites him. He asks her, “I’m getting close. Are you?”

“Yes,” she squeals as the waves of her orgasm take over. He follows shortly after. They stay in each others embrace as they catch their breath.  

Draco’s warming charm wore off some time ago and the tepid bathwater is getting cooler by the minute. Hermione is the first to say, “I’m getting cold and pruny.”

“Me too. Time for bed?” he asks.

“As long as clothes aren’t involved.” She stands up, takes his hand, and leads him out of the bath.

—xoxox—

Hermione nervously taps her foot in the lift as descends from the first floor to the atrium. As the tension becomes too much for her, she starts pacing in the small space. Draco leans against the back wall, watching the minister grow more anxious. The only other person with them is Hermione’s assistant, Allie.

“Why did I decide to do this as a press conference and not just send out a release?” Hermione desperately asks Draco as she grabs the lapel of his crisp, black suit jacket.

He slyly takes her hands and moves them up to around his neck and smooths out the front of his jacket, “Because you said that the press couldn’t be trusted and that the public needed to hear your story from your lips.”

“I’m an idiot. What if I mess up? What if I make things worse? What if I lose my cool?” Her voice grows higher in pitch as she becomes more anxious.

“Just look at me. I'll be in the front row watching and cheering you on.” He presses his lips to her forehead and rubs her back. His touch has a way of calming her in a way that words can't.

“You two are really cute. Like in a Princess Kate and Prince William, cute. Or Justin and Sophie Trudeau, cute. You might even be Barack and Michelle Obama level, cute,” Allie says after observing their behavior.

“Allie, you were a child when the Obamas and the Trudeaus were in office and how do you know so much about muggle international politics?” Draco asks.

“My mother is American, and my father is Canadian, both muggles. They met at Oxford during study abroad and ended up staying here.” Draco looks surprised and impressed. Allie continues, “They gave me the political bug. But think about it, the best looking political couples are also associated with those that made the most social impact. Yeah, it’s a bit superficial, but think about it, JFK became president over seventy years ago, and people still talk about Jackie Kennedy. If you changed your mind and decided to run again, Minister, I think you and Mister Malfoy could push us into a second renaissance. Just saying.”

Hermione and Draco smile at each other and have trouble envisioning of themselves as a political power couple, especially with her so close to walking away. However, there is something appealing about it.

The lift reaches its destination and aurors and cameras are waiting for them. The minister’s anthem plays as they set foot on the carpet. Draco steps behind to follow Hermione, but she takes his hand and pulls her next to him. It's a bold move that will only reinforce what she is about to say. With her hand in his, he kisses it for all to see. They walk hand-in-hand to the stage, and he kisses her on the cheek before taking the seat usually reserved for the Minister’s spouse. Harry is also seated in the first row with the undersecretaries and other cabinet members between them. Rose and Scorpius are seated right behind Draco.

Scorpius and Rose lean in while the younger Malfoy asks his father, “Is she ready for this?”

“She's Hermione Granger. She was born ready,” Draco says confidently, much to Rose’s approval.

The sound of applause dies while the clicking of camera shutters continue. Hermione pulls her note cards out of her pocket, but the truth is, this speech has been rehearsed so many times, she knows it by heart. The harsh lights beam in her eyes as she scans the audience for familiar faces and can’t see past the first two rows—but that is enough for her. She just needs to see Harry, Scorpius, Rose, and Draco. The audience grows tense with the minister’s prolonged silence. _This is it,_ she thinks to herself. She smooths out her fitted white dress and clears her throat.

“My goodness, these lights are blinding. Could someone adjust them a bit? I think the stand-in was a bit taller than I am. Ah, that’s better. Thank you,” the Minister says nervously.

An anonymous holler from the crowd yells, “We love you minister!”

“I love you too!” She laughs a bit and it helps her relax, “That is why I am here today, to talk to you all about love. The emotion that drives us to do incredibly brave and incredibly stupid things. The emotion that causes us to give generously and to sacrifice. I am here to say that love has been the motivator of all the actions in my lifetime—brave, stupid, giving, and sacrificial.

“When I was twelve-years-old, it was my love for my best friend that had me follow him blindly. I admired his conviction to do what was right, though it was never easy. Other than my father, Harry Potter, is the man I have loved the longest—my best friend, my brother. Through thick and thin, life, death, happiness, and sorrow. Together we went straight from the battlefield to a life of service to wizardkind. He and I share an ideal that our talents were meant to do some good in this world. He has been my rock, my confidant, and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.” She looks at Harry in the crowd, and he’s wiping a tear from his eye. He didn’t expect to be mentioned in this speech but is glad he was.  

“When I entered life as a Ministry employee, I was fortunate that my experiences in the war afforded me opportunities to explore and have a positive effect in so many areas. My first stop was Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which I am proud to say is now simply called, Department of Magical Creatures. Under the tutelage of Mathilda Grimblehawk, we worked toward equal rights for magical creatures, family and individual support for werewolves, and house elf liberation and wage reparations. I may not have seen all my projects come to fruition, but I put the wheels in motion so that those who followed could continue my work.”

Hermione looks back at Draco, and he gives a smile and nod encouraging her to keep going. “It’s no a secret that I am muggle-born. I am proud and love my heritage. Which is why my next stop in the ministry would be to protect muggles and muggle-borns. I petitioned the Muggle Liaison office to break away from Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, to become the Department of Muggle Relations. The muggle community would no longer be obliviated for every bit of accidental magic. More than thirty-five percent of the wizarding community has living muggle relatives. Sometimes the things we do for love create a deep seated guilt, as is what happened to me. The only way I was able to protect my parents during the war was to erase me from their lives. I vowed never to let another muggle-born or their family experience helplessness or that our community couldn't help them or their children.

“They say my rise to power was meteoric. They say I somehow found a way to make muggle sympathizers and purebloods proud of their minister. I promise you this, I will continue to make you proud. Though there are only a few months left of my term, I will lead you through the arising conflicts and help with the transition of the new administration."

"Still, the questions swirl as to why I am ready to walk away from such a successful career. The answer is simple. Love. Love for you and love for myself.”

The crowd gasps and whispers as they speculate what the minister could possibly mean.

“Leaving this job—this wonderful dream job that has allowed me to change so many lives—is not about me being unable to handle the pressures or no longer having the desire to be effective. It is time to pave a new path. New blood. Fresh ideas. Continued progress. Under Minister Shacklebolt, we rebuilt. Under me, we revived. Now is the era of renewal. Whomever the next minister will be, they will be brilliant, because all of you would have put them there."  

“Bittersweet doesn’t fully express the emotions I am experiencing. Your support over the years pushed me to be the best minister I could be. It was not without challenges and opposition but progress was made. I must say goodbye soon. This chapter of my life is coming to an end and a new one is beginning."

“Though he is not here, I do want to acknowledge my ex-husband, Ronald Weasley. Without his love and support, I would have never been able to focus on my career and our family. Rose and Hugo would not be the loyal, headstrong, gracious, and generous adults they are now without their father’s guidance. Our marriage may not have lasted, but what we had was special and our children are the truest testament to that. Ron is a kind and wonderful man, and does not deserve to be vilified. In the story of life, there are no real heroes and villains—just flawed humans who fall in and out of love."

“This brings us back to love. I sacrificed my personal happiness out of fear of disappointing my family and you, but recently, things changed. My family let me know that they were more disappointed if I continued to deny myself everything I had given to them. I didn’t realize how broken I was until someone helped me see myself. A version of myself I didn’t know was still there,” Hermione fights back the tears as she looks down at Draco again. “The world is strange and confusing, and sometimes the timing is all wrong, and sometimes there is no time like the present. That is what happened. Years of friendship, confiding in one another, and unsaid truths became too much to ignore. I fell in love with Draco Malfoy while I was still married. Against my better judgment, I stayed in a marriage that was no longer working, and I unknowingly let another man into my heart.”

Hermione licks her lips, ignores the buzzing of the crowd, and looks directly at him, “Draco is kind, intelligent, has advised me, been a wonderful sounding board, and counsel. His generosity knows no bounds. It may sound cliche, but he is beautiful inside and out. He brings me a certain peace and I’m happy he is my partner,” her little smirk grows to a full smile.

“Our relationship is complicated and some may view as controversial. At the end of the day, we are human and we all deserve love and happiness. I hope that you can forgive my indiscretions and not let it tarnish my love for the people and the accomplishments I made on your behalf. Thank you.”

The reaction from the crowd is mixed. Some polite clapping and some loud cheering. Draco walks to the stage to help her down and scoops her into a passionate kiss in front of the media and all the cameras—but he doesn’t care. This woman professed her love for him in front of the entire wizarding world and he was damn sure they were going to know how he felt.


	23. Don’t Look Back in Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ron and Hermione’s marriage is finally coming to the official end, they make an attempt at closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so so so sorry it has taken so long for an update. I’ve been chasing the plot bunnies on two other stories. 
> 
> Also, extra special special shout to to my beta, [mama2HPbabies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mama2HPbabies/pseuds/mama2HPbabies), who will be working toward her PhD! Congrats, lovely!

## April 2030

“Wake up sleepyhead,” Draco says to the slumbering Hermione as he rubs her back and kisses her neck.

She wipes the sleep from her eyes and stretches her arms over her head as she attempts to sit up. Draco is already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed with a breakfast tray on the nightstand. Gorgeous arrangements of fragrant white daffodils, calla lilies, and roses surround the room. It’s all a bit much for her to take in first thing in the morning. “Draco, what’s going on?”

“Happy Divorce Day!” he exclaims, as he places the tray down over her lap and kissing her on the cheek.

Hermione laughs at his enthusiasm then takes a sip of her coffee. “Does it warrant this grand of a celebration? We already had a press release and well, several _private_ celebrations.”

“Cheeky. Yes. This is worth celebrating,” he pops open a bottle of champagne and pours them into two crystal flutes. “Now that you will be legally divorced, I’ll no longer be the predatory, wife-stealing Death Eater and you won’t be the cock-hungry slag.”

“Excuse me? Where did you hear someone call me a ‘cock-hungry slag?’”

“Um, I may have started that rumor,” he says jokingly.

She throws a croissant at him, “Arsehole.”

He dodges the bread, trying to shield the champagne, “Hey! This is Dom Perignon and not that swill they put in mimosas.”

“Oh really? Bring it here,” she greedily reaches for the champagne but waits to take a sip. With a sound of concern, she asks, “No one actually called me that, did they?”

“Merlin, I hope not. I’d feel sorry for whoever did. You’d destroy them,” He gives her a kiss on her nose and then holds up his flute, “A toast. To my beautiful Hermione. Today officially marks the end of one era and the start of a new one.”

“Cheers,” she says as they clink their crystal stemware. The bubbles tickle her lips, and she savors the subtle toastiness that lends itself well to breakfast, “Damn, that is delicious.”

“Not as delicious as your lips,” he leans down and gives her a quick peck. “Alright, my love. Enjoy your breakfast—well, whatever you didn’t chuck at me. I’m off.”

“Where are you going? It’s still early,” she says while patting the space next to her.

“We are leaving tomorrow for a fourteen day trip all over Europe. There are so many things we need to do before we leave, and that’s even with me deploying all my house elves. I also need a haircut; I’m a disheveled mess. You mustn’t worry about a thing. Just go to your last marriage counseling session and sign the papers at Justin’s office. I’ll see you for lunch at the club before our briefing with Harry. Alright?”

“Yes, sir. How do you somehow spoil and chastise me at the same time?”

“It’s a gift,” he gives her a kiss goodbye. “Next time I see you, you’ll no longer be Mrs. Weasley.”

“I was never Mrs. Weasley,” she corrects him.

“And that is music to my ears,” he says with a crooked smile. As he walks through the bedroom door, he hollers back, “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—xoxox—

Ron and Hermione awkwardly sit on the couch in the therapist’s office. After ten long years of not accomplishing anything, it’s time to attempt closure.

Dr. Constance Medina has been kind and patient over the years, but one could tell she grew exhausted dealing with Ron and Hermione. Dr. Medina is a squib, born to two healers. She chose to go into psychology after realizing the massive need for it following the second Wizarding War. Had she been gifted in the magical arts, Connie would have attended Hogwarts around the same time as Ron and Hermione. Instead, she attended Wycombe Abbey School, an all-girls boarding school which thankfully kept her far away from the war as it took its toll on the wizarding world. She didn’t see her parents much during this time, as they were busy working around the clock at St. Mungo’s.

Connie looks over and reads their body language. They aren't as tense as they have been in previous sessions, but still don't look comfortable in each other's presence. The therapist clears her throat to grab their attention, “Ron and Hermione. Let me start off by saying I am pleased you decided to have one more session before the divorce is final. You have a full hour, but we don't need to use all the time if you don't want.”

They nod in agreement.

Dr. Medina continues, “So Hermione, your press conference was pretty ballsy.” Hermione looks uncomfortable, as if she is about to be reprimanded. “But it was beautiful and well done. You made a conscious decision to be honest and vulnerable.”

“Oh. Um. Yes. Thank you, Connie. I was just trying to set the record straight.”

“And do you think you accomplished that?”

“To an extent. The reports aren’t as slanderous, and now that we are feeding information at planned intervals, the tactics haven’t been as intrusive,” Hermione says with a knot in her chest. “What I am most thankful for is they’ve backed off harassing Hugo, Rose and Scorpius, and Ron.”

The therapist asks, “Is that true, Ron? Do you feel like you have regained a bit of privacy?”

“Um, uh. Yeah. For a while there, the reporters would wait outside the office or the shop. I had to set up wards at the Summer House. But since Hermione’s speech, it’s… I dunno? People remember we’re real people. I’ve been talking to George and Angie a lot. No offense, Connie, but sometimes your big brother is better at slapping reason into you than a shrink. But Angie said something to the effect of, ‘There aren’t heroes and villains in love stories.’ Just—” Ron sighs at the loss of words. He’s never been loquacious, especially when divulging emotions. “Just— Hermione, help me out here.”

“Just circumstance?” she suggests.

“Yeah, circumstance. Thanks, Hermione,” his guard is dropping, and they smile back at each other. Ron’s attention turns to his soon-to-be-ex-wife and continues, “I thought a lot about what you said in the speech. You’re welcome. If I had to do it over again and choose the kids over our marriage so that you succeeded, I would,” Hermione’s heart swells with emotion and her eyes water. It has been a long time since Ron has been able to express himself, so she makes sure not to interrupt him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I’m almost to the point where I understand that things just weren’t meant to be. I never like admitting defeat, but I guess this wasn’t a battle, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t a battle,” Hermione says as she sits closer to him and entwines her fingers with his and is thankful he doesn’t recoil. They look at each other and smile. “This was a journey, and somewhere along the way, we took two different paths, but we wouldn’t have gotten as far as we did without each other. Ron?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“I miss my best friend,” she sniffles as the tears roll down.

“I miss you, too.”

“Can we be friends again?”

“Someday soon. I’m not ready just yet. But one day,” he says as he squeezes her hand.

Dr. Medina hands Hermione a tissue and says, “That was beautiful, Ron. It’s not closure, but it’s a start. You two have too much history to block yourselves out. The fact that Hermione has already moved on is difficult, but one day you will, too. It will be new and different, but you’ll be ready for it. I am proud of both you. On top of that, you both just dove right into this session. Is there anything else you want to talk about before we end?”

The couple shakes their heads.  

“Very well,” Connie says. “It was an honor working with you both, and you dealt with a situation that most people could never imagine. I wish you the best in the future and hope to see you around.”

—xoxox—

Justin isn’t present for the final paperwork. He is already working with his election team and preparing transition procedures if he is elected minister. After a few quick signatures, it’s over. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley are no longer married.

As expected, reporters are waiting outside of the law firm. The former couple shakes hands in front of the cameras showing that it is indeed an amicable divorce and that they are moving on with their lives.

Ron and Hermione part ways as they both have lunch plans.

Hermione arrives at the club and heads straight back to the private room. When she opens the door, Draco is waiting for her with single white rose and open arms. His embrace is the definition of being home. It is safe, welcoming, protective, and warm.

She reaches up to kiss his inviting lips and says, “I’m now officially all yours.”

“It’s about damn time.” He cups her face with both hands and kisses her more deeply. “You know, we could skip lunch and head home for the next hour…”

“Actually, lunch will be short because I pushed up our meeting so we can call it an early day.”

Draco pulls out the chair for her and says, “Your brilliance never ceases to amaze me. Alright, I told them to keep it light and simple, chef’s choice.” He has never cared for picking out his meals. Between having house elves planning his menus at home and school his whole life, it is easier relying on the experts to feed him.

“Oh I hope they make that salad with the balsamic chicken, almonds, and strawberries,” Hermione says absentmindedly.

“Do you want to change the order? We can do that.”

“No need. We are on a time crunch. I’m sure whatever the chef makes will be delicious. So, it has taken me a month to track down, but I bought you something.” She fishes through her bag and takes out a large, bottle-shaped velvet bag, “you can't be the only one who buys expensive gifts.”

“I don’t need gifts. I have everything I want right here,” Draco reaches for her hand and kisses it from across the table.

“Just take it,” she urges as she forces the bag into his hands.

Rolling his eyes, he unties the drawstrings. “Ha! You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“The Glenglassaugh 55 year single malt. How did you find it? When I bought it, it was number 100 out of 225.”

“Lots of research and lots of money. But, it was a bit of a love potion of sorts, wasn’t it?”

“I guess you can say that. I love it.” Draco gets out of his seat and gives her a long hug and kiss. “Now remember a few weeks ago, when Albus went to Japan?”

She gives him a quizzical look, “Yes…”

“I had him find me an art dealer to find me something rare and truly unique—something that could tell our story. I can’t even tell you how perfect her timing is because I picked up your gift today. That’s where I went this morning—Albus took me to Hiroshima.” He reaches under the table and takes out a medium sized box wrapped in metallic paper.

“Draco, what is this?”

“Just open it.”

She shakes her head in feigned disbelief, “You’re something else, you know that?”

He flashes her a mischievous smile and a wink. When she opens the box, she sees a beautiful teapot with intricate paintings. Cracks run around it, mended with gold and silver, “Oh, Draco. It’s kintsugi, but this pot is Chinese. I’m assuming there is a story behind this?”

“This teapot survived the bombing of Hiroshima, well mostly. It belonged to a couple—the husband Japanese, the wife Chinese. Now, the man’s family and community didn’t accept the woman, just because of her birth.”

“Sounds familiar…”

Draco smiles and continues, “The couple lived far enough outside of the blast zone, they survived, but the bomb shook the earth and still destroyed most of their belongings. Following the bombing, the woman proved herself to her neighbors with her selflessness and generosity, helping all those who needed it. The townspeople were humbled and grateful. A wealthy merchant provided the gold and silver, and an artisan repaired the teapot. From that day on, no one ever questioned her birth again and accepted her as one of their own.”

She wipes tears from her eyes and stares at the teapot with even more appreciation, “Draco Malfoy, if you’re making this up, I’ll believe this story either way, because that is just beautiful.”

“Look closely at the paintings on the side. It tells the story of the Jade Dragon and the Golden Phoenix.” He goes on to tell the tale, “An abbreviated version of the legend goes, the dragon and the phoenix met every day, and worked for years and years and years, to create a pearl so beautiful that it was envied by the gods. The mother goddess attempted to steal it, but as the dragon and the phoenix flew to the heavens to retrieve the pearl, it fell back to earth. The pearl became a lake, and the dragon and phoenix became mountains as so to never part from the beauty they created together, ever again.”

“Is the pearl our love, you the dragon, and me the phoenix?”

“What can I say. I’m a sucker for symbolism.”

“It’s beyond perfect,” she climbs into his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. “Some of the most beautiful things in this world take time. Like pearls.”

“And us,” his arms wrap around her waist, and they share a deep and meaningful kiss, full of the same longing and anticipation as their first kiss. They could stay in this moment forever but are interrupted by their server.

“Ahem. Lunch is served,” the server says awkwardly trying to avoid staring at the minister and her partner.

“Sorry, Jack. Thank you,” Hermione says to her usual server.

He places the salads, soups, and basket of bread on the table and leaves.

“Cockblock,” Draco quips.

Hermione laughs, “Okay, loverboy. Eat up, and we’ll get out of here.”

—xoxox—

The entire dignitary and security team for the tour meet in the main high-security conference room, near Hermione’s office. Tensions are high as there are reports of activity from terror cells all over Europe and the conflict in the Kurdistan region is getting worse—with James and Lily in the middle of it. Harry tries to keep his mind off of this children and paces back and forth, waiting for everyone to arrive. As Hermione and Draco walk into the room, the crowd quiets and takes their seats.

“Thank you, everyone,” Harry begins the briefing and waves his wand to illuminate points on the map. “Tomorrow you all leave for your first stop, Paris. After that, Madrid, Lisbon, Sofia, Athens, and finally Berlin. Undercover teams already left a few days ago to scout the area and work with local law enforcement. You will not know who they are, but they are in constant contact with our team here at the ministry.

“Abigail, can you please pass out their kits?” Harry instructs the woman. The young auror nods to her superior and hands handbags to the women, sunglass cases to the men, and pocket watches to everyone. “I have purposefully been incredibly secret about your travel details. The advances we made in travel technology will give us a significant advantage. The pocket watches are portkeys, but not the standard single destination we are all accustomed to. Every single destination on this tour is already scheduled to transport you. Open up the watches.”

They all open their watches, and the face is takes them by surprise. “Paris” is written in the center with two small faces: one counting down days and the other, hours. The main face ticks down the minutes and seconds activating one hour until departure.  

Harry continues, “When the hand reaches the yellow zone, you have five minutes. Red, one minute. After you arrive at your destination, the watch will refresh and countdown to your next location. This is crucial, wear the watch around your neck at all times. Yes, it is waterproof, and you can wear it in the shower. If there is any trouble, a failsafe is built in and everyone will be transported back here to the ministry. It only takes one person to activate the emergency feature. At the first sign of trouble, double click and wind the crown. You’ll hear loud ticking and have thirty seconds to ready yourself for transportation.”

The crowd mumbles and gripes.

“In a battle, thirty seconds can feel like a lifetime. If you can’t finish taking a shit and pull your trousers up in thirty seconds, that’s your problem, not mine. Understood?”

The team silently nods.  

“As you will be traveling by portkey, you will have to travel light. The glasses cases and handbags all have undetectable extension charms. Everything you need for this trip and more can fit in these bags. The benefit of using these over suitcases is they are light and you can have all your belongings with you at all times. I understand that the ladies will need their bags to match their outfits, so there is a basic color changing glamour charm built into the bags. If you prefer using more advanced transfiguration spells, that will be fine. It won’t effect the extension charm. Gentlemen, the eyeglass cases are small enough to keep in your pocket so not too much to worry about.

“Does anyone have any questions about their kit? No? Okay good,” Harry guzzles down some water as this briefing has made his throat dry. He grips the back of the chair and makes eye contact with Hermione, but addresses the whole group. “It pains me that I can’t be there for this trip. I’m needed here, but my best people are out there waiting to protect you. You are a strong team and worked hard to get back in shape."

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared. We’ve already thwarted several terror threats that we’ve kept out of the papers. Minister, your divorce and relationship with Mister Malfoy has worked in our favor for something,” Harry gives Hermione and Draco a wink, “The media has been so preoccupied with gossip, we’ve been able to keep our operations covert. In the six weeks since the attack on the school in Kurdistan, many dark wizards have been taken into custody or were terminated on sight. It seems as though we have been able to suppress much of the activity. MACUSA is also joining us in the fight. We’re trying to find the leader, but The Blessed Dark is a damn hydra—it keeps growing new heads...but that’s my problem."

“Good luck to you all, stay safe, stay vigilant.”

They all make their way to leave, but Hermione and Draco stop to talk to Harry. He throws his arms around his best friend and holds her tight, “Don’t do anything stupid. That’s my job. Alright?”

“Alright, Harry,” her voice shakes with more emotion than she expected.

“Gin and I will be by the Minister’s Mansion tonight to see the two of you off,” Harry says, “I also wanted to reinforce the wards in your absence. Draco, I’m also sending security detail to add wards at the townhouse and the Manor.”

“What about the pub? Do you think anyone would try to target it?” Draco asks.

“Bill is helping the kids with more subtle wards and revealing charms as it’s a public establishment. Our tactics are a bit more direct. But we do have the pub being monitored by undercover aurors,” Harry responds.

“Sounds good to me,” says Hermione. “Alright. We need to get going and finish the last of our packing.”

“See you,” Harry says as Hermione leaves. He grabs Draco by the arm and tells him, “Take care of our girl.”

“With my life.”


	24. I Put a Spell on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Minister of Magic is on her final diplomatic tour before stepping down from office, but terror threat levels are high. Will this trip to Europe be filled with romance or danger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second act of this chapter is dedicated to [MrBenzedrine89](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/pseuds/MrBenzedrine89). Her artistic, photographer Draco from [Sex Ed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7929844) makes an appearance towards the end.
> 
> * * *

## April 2030

With the watches around their necks, the loud ticking signals their departure is approaching. Hermione has a bag from her personal collection packed with her belongings in one hand and holds Draco’s hand with the other.

He is anxious for so many reasons. Firstly, he hates traveling by portkey — they are notoriously inaccurate and have transported him into trees, mud puddles, and rubbish bins. Harry reassured him that these portkeys are incredibly accurate and it should feel just like apparition. The Department of Magical Transportation has been working on these portkeys for years, integrating muggle GPS technology and trace magic. All the locations they will be traveling to have been pinpointed and “programmed,” for lack of a better phrase, into the portkeys.

Secondly, Draco is nervous about the fact that he and Hermione will be making their first appearance as a couple while on state business. Although he could care less about what people back home, in Britain, think about their relationship, he fears the diplomatic ramifications. They are traveling to a few conservative countries—some of which are already uneasy by the facts she is a woman with so much power. This unmarried woman with her lover in tow is a brazen defiance of what is expected of a politician, and a female one at that. Draco knows Hermione can hold her own, but what is at stake is beyond personal pride—it's international diplomacy.

Lastly, he’s worried about her safety. Just an hour before, Harry and Ginny had stopped by to say farewell. Harry wasn’t just there to say goodbye to his friends; he was there on official business. As head of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry had taken Draco and Hermione aside to let them know that undercover security has been doubled. He said it was just a precaution, but Harry momentarily let his guard down, and Draco peered into his mind and saw two thwarted attacks attempt in the Greek and Bulgarian magical shopping districts. Harry closed his mind quickly knowing what Draco had learned. Harry just sighed and shook his head yes. The two men communicated without words at what could be waiting out there.

“Hey,” Hermione says snapping Draco out of his worried daydream.

“Huh?” he looks at the excitement on her face.

“Twenty seconds,” she smiles and squeezes his hand. They count down in unison as if it were New Years or the launch of a spacecraft. When the clock hand hits zero, it rings loudly and sucks them through a vortex. They reappear on the roof of building in the middle of Paris, surrounded by the entire diplomatic and security team comprised of around forty diplomats, assistants, communications specialists, private press corps, healer, and the rest of the security detail.

Draco, pleased that he is standing on two feet says, “Harry was right. Just like apparition.”

Hermione leans up to kiss him, “I don’t know why you were so worried. I guarantee you that Albus, Scorpius, and Rose had something to do with those gadgets.”

“Hermione, do you really think out of all the gifted minds at DMT and MLE, no one else could figure these portkeys out?” Draco says skeptically. “Darling, they _are_ brilliant, but when would they have the time to work on such a project?”

“What I think is I have a daughter that likes to tinker with muggle gadgets like her grandfather, a nephew who has a rare gift of travel, and you have a son who is clever enough to find a way to combine the both,” she states as they walk toward the head of their security force, Evan Montague.

“Hello, Minister.” He extends a hand, which she shakes.

“Auror Montague,” she smiles. “Harry told me we would have a friendly face leading the security team. But he wouldn’t tell me who.”

He then looks to Hermione’s left, “Ah, Draco! Good to see you,” the man says while giving his former housemate a firm handshake and pat on the shoulder.

“Evan. Good to see you, too. How’s your brother? Your wife and kids?” Draco is cordial with the man who is five years his junior.

Evan was far too young to take sides or fight during the Battle of Hogwarts. While locked in the dungeons with the other Slytherins, Astoria comforted the second year. She showed him that you could still be brave and compassionate no matter what house you were sorted into. After the war, he sought to bring honor to the great house and was a model student. He excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts and wanted to work as an auror alongside war hero, Harry Potter. In time, he proved himself to be one of Harry’s most trusted aurors.

“Good. Good. Graham has the family estate to run. My kids will be graduating from Hogwarts in one and two years. The wife still runs the bookshop and tries not to think about what I do for a living, “ he laughs.

“Glad to hear everyone is doing well,” Hermione says warmly. She looks around and takes in the beautiful Parisian skyline. From their vantage, they have the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. Since they arrived under cover of night, they get to enjoy the marvel that is the City of Lights. “Evan where exactly are we?”

“A very convenient location, Minister. The Hotel Le Meurice, which will be your home base for the next three days. We have already checked in, connected to the French Floo Network, warded the entire building, and placed additional wards on your suite. We can escort you and your staff to your rooms whenever you are ready.” He motions his hand forward to the doors.

“Oh, if that’s the case... Since we’re already at our destination and have all the protective charms up, you don’t mind if we stay up and enjoy the view a bit longer, do you, Evan?” Draco asks while pulling Hermione closer to him.

“Of course we don’t mind,” he says through a sly smile. “Here are your key cards. You’re in the Belle Etoile Suite. Your team, including myself, will have access to the common areas, but the bedroom has private access. If you’re looking for anyone, the British Ministry has the entire seventh floor.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Hermione says, “You and the team are dismissed as soon as they all find the way to their rooms.”

“Yes, Minister. Draco,” He nods and turns heel. Evan leads the team to the their rooms.

Allie, Hermione’s assistant, walks up to the two of them, with a cheeky grin. She has a soft spot for her boss and Mr. Malfoy. Seeing the two of them together can make anyone smile, “So...Shall I be calling room service to bring up some champagne and canapes?”

“And here I am, thinking I wouldn’t be able to live two weeks without house elves,” Draco slips Allie a one hundred Euro note.

“You picked up Muggle money?” Allie says with a surprised look.

“Allie,” Hermione says, “Since you’re a muggleborn, you should understand this reference. Do you remember in Back to the Future, where Doc Brown has the case of different bank notes throughout history?”

“Of course. It’s one of my favorite film franchises,” she replies. Hermione’s smile grows wider as Draco sighs in mock annoyance.

“Well Draco has a similar case, but with different worldwide currency. Honestly, I think it’s absurd to travel with that much cash.”

Allie snickers as she sees him roll his eyes, “It’s not like we’re muggle tourists that can be easily pickpocketed. We have protection, summoning, and concealment charms—not to mention I’d hex someone’s balls off if they tried stealing from me.”

“You both are too funny. I’m headed to my room now. I’m exhausted. I understand Mr. Potter wanting us to play it safe and travel at night, but 2 a.m. after a work day is a bit much. I’ll have that bottle of champagne set up as soon as I settle in,” she says as she waves goodbye.

“Good night, Allie,” they say in unison.

They walk hand-in-hand toward the edge of the building, breathing in the crisp spring air as they gaze upon the twinkling lights of the city. Draco kisses her right hand, then slightly turns his hand so their palms touch. He slides his right hand to her hip—presenting himself in a relaxed dancer’s posture. She instinctively places her left hand on his shoulder, and they start swaying. Draco begins humming a melody that she doesn’t recognize.

“What are you humming?” she asks while nuzzling her head under his chin.

“Your Magic Entwined with Mine by Celestina Warbeck. My mum used to play her music to put my father in a better mood. When they would dance, it was as if the world around them disappeared,” he wistfully recalls the memories as he kisses the top of her head and pulls her in closer. “I'm sorry. Being here in France reminds me of them. We used to summer in Paris and then in Marseilles. Some of my better childhood memories. They weren't completely horrid, well before—”

“Don't apologize,” she looks up at him with her green-flecked eyes, “I know you loved them and you should never feel sorry for that. Despite everything, I know they weren't evil—because they made you.”

He kisses her tenderly, falling deeper in love with a woman who still manages to find compassion for the people who would have let her die in their home with little or no remorse. “You are too kind and forgiving,” he says, full of admiration.

“And don't you forget it. I mean it. You are forgiven and loved,” she says as she wraps her arms around his neck and settles her head on his chest. “You know, Paris reminds me of my parents, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Hold that thought,” she breaks the embrace to reach into her bag and pulls out her mobile. She seems to be taking a while to find something, and he looks at her quizzically. With a satisfied smile, La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong begins to play softly from the speaker. “Sorry, but I felt like we needed a bit of mood music.”

He chuckles as she fumbles to put the phone down without dropping it. It slips out of her hands and slides across the rooftop, to which she grimaces with embarrassment and just leaves it there. She decides to get it later.

“Nice job, butterfingers,” he teases as he pulls her back into his arms and they start swaying to the melody, “but I like the music selection. I’m not sure I've heard this before.”

“Well, now you have. My parents love old standards. The music is a bit before their time, but good, romantic music never goes out of style. You know, they brought me here the summer after second year,” she recalls.

“I know,” he says casually, with an air that he knows something she does not.

Her eyebrows furrow trying to figure out what he is insinuating, “How do you know?”

“I saw you trying to get onto the Rue des Mystères,” he snickers at the shock on her face as he reminisces. He gracefully leads her across the rooftop with series of glides and side steps. “My parents and I had just finished our shopping and were on the muggle side. Don’t tell anyone, but Narcissa had a sweet tooth and loved muggle patisseries. As I was munching on what was probably a chocolate croissant, I heard a familiar, bossy voice speaking terrible broken French.”

She laughs as she remembers how difficult it was to find the magical district of Paris without a guide or translator—having muggle parents didn't help much either. His command of conversation and dance are beyond seductive—it’s enchanting and makes her heart flutter.

He continues, “I was shocked and annoyed that I couldn't get away from you, so naturally, I told my parents some excuse so I could stalk you.”

“You didn't!” she shakes her head and tucks it into his chest.

“I did. I planned on doing what I usually did—playing some kind of horrible joke and being a complete git. So, I followed you into a Quidditch shop, of all places, and saw you chatting up some boy. I thought I was being funny when I toppled over a stack of snitches, sending them flying out of their packages, toward your direction. Sorry.” He tries to distract her from his admission of guilt by dipping her with elegant ease. With her back arched, he slowly pulls her back into him while he runs the tip of his nose from her navel upward between her breasts and places soft sensual kisses on the base of her neck.

“Mmm. You drop his massive secret on me, and now you’re trying to change the subject. I should be getting upset with that little ferret, but the gorgeous man in front of me is making it impossible,” she parts her lips slightly, inviting his kiss.

His lips meet hers, and he dips his tongue into her mouth, oh so gently and briefly. The kisses travel from her lips to her jaw. He whispers in her ear, “At the time, I thought I was being a prankster.” His hands slide from her hips around to her backside to give her toned arse a good squeeze. He gathers the material of the skirt up, exposing her barely covered bottom to the cool night. He whispers in her ear, “Now I realize I was jealous.”

Her breath catches in anticipation, but the rattle of ice against metal and the tinkling of crystal signals their champagne and snacks have arrived.

“Why are waiters always interrupting us?” Draco asks jokingly as he drops the material and smooths her skirt down. He and the waiter converse in French. Draco dismisses the tired-looking young man and instructs him to leave the tray at one of the bistro tables. The loud pop made when uncorking the bottle startles the both of them, and they laugh at her their silliness. They quickly gobble up the canapés and sip the champagne, not realizing how hungry they were.

Hermione notices a rose on the tray and brings it to her nose, inhaling its perfume. She takes it by the stem and brushes it's velvety petals against his stubbled cheek. "So is this what the rest of our lives are going to be like? Champagne, roses, and dancing in the moonlight?"

"Maybe, until I fuck it up and act like an arsehole and say something snarky."

"Or I act like a condescending bitch."

"See, we already accept each other's faults."

"We'll fight..."

"...and make up—and making up can be the best part."

She bites her lip as he leans in for a kiss, but puts her finger on his lips and says, “Ready to go to bed? I do recall you promising me something along the lines to making love to me on every country and continent.”

“You would be right. Well, I do believe I must deliver on my promise. Lead the way, minister,” he says with a cocked eyebrow, excited for what the evening has in store.

She takes him by the hand and leads him to the suite door. There is a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and she leans into his ear, “I promise you’ll more than mildly enjoy it.”

—xoxox—

Hermione insists on freshening up before bed. The anticipation has been building all day, but Draco can spare a few more minutes. He makes himself a bit more comfortable and shrugs off his jacket, slips off his tie and unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt. She seems to be taking a little while, so he unpacks necessities for the next few days: his suits for meetings, dress robes for the state dinner, toiletries, camera and lenses, and a few more surprise gifts for Hermione—as if a teapot was the only present he would give her. He opens the velvet boxes and smirks.

A click of a door handle alerts him that his lady love is ready for him. His eyes turn in her direction, and his mouth hits the floor—she is a vision from head-to-toe. Her soft waves are loosely pinned up exposing her neck, a lace and satin bustier has her cinched in a way that her bosom looks like heavenly pillows he wants to bury his face into. He’s not sure he can even call what she’s wearing knickers—they are just strips of fabric barely covering her shapely hips and delectable center. She pulls out all the stops and is even wearing a garter belt with lace trimmed stockings and satin, peep-toe stilettos. The sheer robe she has over everything isn’t for modesty’s sake—it’s pure decoration completing the ensemble.

He licks his lips while devouring her with his eyes and manages to choke out, “Sweet Jesus.”  

“Jesus, eh? Not Merlin or Salazar?” she asks coyly as she sashays toward a very overdressed Draco.

“Only the Son of God has the ability to conjure something so divine,” he says with the most velvety of tones. With his camera still in reach, he snaps a photo of her sizzling saunter.

His reaction to her causes her to emit a flirty laugh, “Draco, darling. What do you have planned with that camera?”

“Oh, you know, what any other tourist does—capturing art, the sights, beautiful things that catch my fancy,” he says while snapping a few more photos.

With one finger, she pushes the camera out of his face and presses her lips gently to his. “So, my love. Are you ready?”

“Not yet,” he runs his fingers along the lace edge of the bustier. The rise and fall of her chest is accentuated by the plumpness of her breasts in the oh-so-flattering lingerie. “You’ve made such an effort. It would be a shame for me to rip this off you so soon.”

She grabs fistfuls of his shirt and pulls him into her so that her lips brush his ear. “So what do you have in mind?”

“Be my model?” he coos in her ear.

“Certainly,” she says as she releases him with a look of confidence and naughtiness befitting of a muse.

“Go to the window. We have an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Over here?”

“Yes. Now pull the curtains open. One hand on each panel. Yes. Like that.” You can hear the frenzied shutter of the lens. He admires the light of the city and moonlight creating a silhouette effect on her body and highlighting her curves. “Perfect. Now open the curtains completely. I want you to stand to the right. Keep your back to me and keep looking out the window. Take your right hand and lift it up just slightly above your head and hold the curtain back.”

“Like this?”

“Just a little lower. Yes, now put your left shoulder down and pop our left hip up just a little bit. Keep your left arm soft. Can you shrug the dressing gown off your shoulders? Oh, yes. _I like that._ Actually, turn your head just slightly looking down to your fingertips. Hermione, you have _excellent_ body control,” she laughs at his double entendre. “Something’s missing. Hold on.” He takes the longer velvet box and walks over to her. She gasps as he fastens a dainty diamond bracelet to her wrist. “Now I’m ready to take the picture.”

She throws her arms around him, and her lips crash onto his, “Draco this is too much. It’s gorgeous and not obscene at all.”

“Hermione,” he cocks an eyebrow, “You’re messing up the shot. You can thank me later.”

She pinches his side knowing how ticklish he is and takes her place back against the window. Draco sniggers like a schoolboy as he checks the viewfinder between shots. Hermione is overwhelmed with arousal. Draco can make her feel sexy and wanted without even laying a finger on her. It’s one of the many things she has fallen in love with.

“Baby, go and lie on the chaise,” he calls from behind the camera. ‘Baby’ isn’t a term of endearment he uses often, but it always puts Hermione in a coquettish mood.

Hermione rests her body against the long lounge chair, but this time Draco poses her himself instead directing her. He bends one knee ever so slightly and crosses it over the other leg so that her body twists in a manner that shows off the definition of her abdomen. His strong hands slip under her back instructing her to arch and then bends her right arm over her head while her left hand grasps the right wrist. As his body hovers over her, she becomes lost in the drunkeness that overcomes her whenever she inhales his scent.

“Tilt your head up. Let me see that delicious neck. You know what? You’re still missing something.”

“Let me guess. Another bauble?”

“Not a bauble, a delicate gold chain with, what is the word you used? Obscene? Yes, and obscenely large emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds,” he says coolly while placing it on her so that the pendant rests just above her cleavage.

She doesn’t dare move a muscle, but her eyes say everything—she’s shocked, upset that Draco would spend so much money, and wants to get this damn photo session over with so he can take her over and over. “Draco, this better be the last shot, or you’re going to have a really hard time taking photos with your wrists tied to the bedposts.”

“Ha. Oh, you _naughty girl._ I promise. This is the last.” He takes photos of her in this position from different angles. Pleased with his work, he puts his camera down. He trails his fingers up her thighs to very damp undergarments, which are waiting to be removed, or so he thinks.

“Part the fabric,” she half-moans, already succumbing to his touch.

Draco doesn’t quite catch her meaning until he realizes the panties have a hidden entrance. His fingers dip inside her center while he unbuttons his shirt with the other hand. “Goodness. I thought I was ready.” He removes his fingers, much to Hermione’s protest. “Love, I need both hands to undress, and I don’t see you hiding your wand to make my clothing vanish. I promise. It won’t take long...unless you want to help me.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she sits up and rips his shirt, popping all the buttons off. Her hands frantically undo his belt and zipper freeing him from the confines of his trousers. “I think we’ve had enough foreplay for the night. Take me.”

With that, he crawls over her and thrust himself into his eager witch. It’s not the slow lovemaking they had planned on. It’s intense and forceful. The tension has been building throughout the day needs to be released. Draco sits upright with her legs wrapped around his waist and continues his deep, penetrating movements. Before sitting up herself, Hermione reaches for the camera and takes a photo of his enraptured concentration.

The click causes Draco’s eyes to open and a Cheshire Cat grin forms on his face, and he slows down his pace. “Oh-ho-ho. Those are the kind of pictures you want. Mmm. Here...I am...taking...tasteful...artistic...mph...boudoir photos.” He climbs off of her and smacks her bottom. “Climb on the bed. I need to fetch my wand.”

“Your wand?”

“I’m going to charm the camera to take photos of us so we can just focus on each other.”

“Oh,” she blushes, “that’s sounds better than the distraction of fumbling with it. Would you like me to strip down as well?”

His eyebrow raises, “Yes. I need to feel your skin against mine.” He waves his wand and says, “ _Cameramea Leviosa_.”

The camera hovers in the air and follows him as he crawls over her naked form. They engage in fevered kisses and pick up where they left off. She takes her time on top, tilting and rocking her hips the way he likes it. He then turns her over and runs his hands up and down her back while behind her. They have learned what each other finds pleasureable. But the one thing they find the most passionate, is facing each other when they come. Tonight, he pulls her on his lap when he knows he is about to reach the precipice. Their foreheads touch and breathing is labored as they move quickly, in unison, eager for the climax. As they both feel the waves of electricity surge through their bodies, Draco rakes his teeth down Hermione’s neck and trails his tongue along the chain of her sparkly new trinket.

Still wrapped in each other’s arms, she pants out, “I love you. So. Damn. Much.”

“I love you more than you will ever know,” he replies, not wanting to be outdone.

They both rest their heads on the pillows and pull up the covers. Draco reaches out, and the camera floats into the palm of his hand. He goes to preview the images and scrunches his face, looking impressed.

“Let me see,” Hermione tucks her head onto his chest and the look at the photos together. “They’re good. Oh, that one’s sexy. That one too. Oh. My. Your back and bum are just gorgeous. What was that spell you used?”

“ _Cameramea_. I started working on it after your little sexting stunt. But instead of just levitation, the camera’s view is projected into my mind, and I tell the camera when  and where to snap,” he says while reviewing more of the erotic photos.

“How did you not lose concentration?”

“With much difficulty,” he laughs. “We should probably sleep. You have a meeting with the Minister of the French Magical Assembly at noon, and we have a briefing brunch at ten.”

“What time is it now?”

He looks over at the clock on the nightstand. “Four-thirty.”

“We are going to be so knackered. But it was worth it.”  


	25. Politik Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The diplomatic tour officially begins.
> 
> Triggers/Squicks: This story has dealt with political themes including unrest and displacement. To this point, our characters have only dealt with these issues in meetings and summaries. This chapter includes detailed accounts of the unrest happening in other parts of this fictional world. If you have triggers related to war, the rest of this fic may contain some events that could be found triggering. You can read up until they arrive at Beauxbatons Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I mentioned it earlier, but I lost a bit of Cursed Child canon compliance. I omitted the fact that Theodore Nott is responsible for the time turner. He was mentioned briefly in chapter three at the engagement party, but he doesn’t say anything.  
> I have been writing Theo in a few other fics and I ADORE him as comic relief, so I hope you enjoy him.
> 
> Beta Love: [mama2HPbabies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mama2HPbabies/pseuds/mama2HPbabies)

## April 2030

 _Knock! Knock! Knock!_ Miss Traynor raps on the door of the Belle Etoile Suite master bedroom. “Minister? Are you awake?” Allie questions, hoping the Minister is ready to start the day.

“ _Yes!_ ”  she says enthusiastically from the other side of the door.

“Great. Will you—”

“ _Oh, God! Yes!_ ”

Mortified, Allie says to herself, “Merlin. She is _not_ talking to me.” The young witch casts a silencing charm. Auror Montague makes his way over, also looking determined to speak to Hermione. Allie grabs him by the arm and says, “Let’s give them another twenty minutes.”

—xoxox—

Draco and Hermione stroll into the sitting room for breakfast, looking positively joyous—and downright obvious in their afterglow. As Draco makes his way to the buffet table and helps himself to a chocolate croissant and coffee, Evan asks him, “Good morning I presume?”

With a smirk and a cocked eyebrow he says, “The _best_.”

“Well, double down on your coffee. It’s going to be a long day. Don’t forget. You’re here on business, not leisure,” he says with cheeky accusation.

“Aye aye, captain,” Draco acknowledges jokingly.

Hermione comes up to them after a quick chat with Allie and sees the two men sharing a laugh.

“What are you two on about?” she asks.

“Oh, just being reprimanded and reminded to drink lots of coffee,” Draco responds kissing her forehead.

“Mmm hmm…”  she says skeptically wondering if they were up to something. “Evan, are we all here? You ready to give the debriefing?”

“Yes. Excuse me, I’ll gather everyone’s attention,” he says as he walks toward the center of the room.

Hermione grabs a slice of quiche and leans into Draco and says, “I’m so knackered. I can’t believe you woke me up for another round.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” he drawls before taking a seductive bite of his pastry. She rolls her eyes and cracks a smile. “Why aren’t you wearing the necklace,” he says a bit deflated.

“Because I need to dress patriotically in the day. That gorgeous green emerald doesn’t quite work with red and blue suits.  I promise I’ll wear it with my gown at the State Dinner,” she says and kisses him on the cheek.

“Fair enough. Or you can wear nothing but the necklace to bed tonight,” he slyly suggests.

She bites her lip, already imagining the scenario but has to snap herself out of it. It is a big day and will require the utmost professionalism and class—which can be difficult when your translator looks dead sexy in a tailored suit. They make their way to a large sofa reserved for them with printed agendas on the coffee table. They sit and nibble on their breakfasts. Draco squints as he attempts to review the documents. He eventually gives up and takes out his reading glasses. Hermione realizes she had forgotten a drink.

“I’m sorry, could someone please grab me a coffee? Black, please,” she asks her staff. Allie brings a cup straight away, avoiding her boss’s eyes. “Allie, are you feeling alright? Something on your mind?”

“I’m fine, Minister. Just ready to get the day started.” Allie smiles awkwardly trying not to let her boss’s sex noises replay in her head.

“Alright. Get something to eat, dear. You’re looking pale.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Allie makes her way to the buffet, heeding Hermione’s advice.

“Excuse me. Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Montague’s voice booms through the murmurs and hustle and bustle of the sitting room. “Thank you. You should all have an itinerary in front of you. If not, please raise your hand.” A few hands around the room go up in response. “Allie, can you please distribute the extras? Thank you. Today kicks off with a bang. We head to the French Minister’s Mansion and Minister Granger has a meet and greet with the French Minister. It will be all hand shaking for the cameras, formal lunch; then she’ll deliver a speech, followed by a private audience with the French government to discuss economics and the refugee situation. She won’t be alone with Minister Dupree. Translators, one personal assistant, one photographer, and two members of security will be present.”

Evan looks at the aforementioned key team members and the nod in acknowledgment. “Good. Dinner will be here. Tomorrow we will be visiting Beauxbatons and the refugee students. Madame Beaumont has already selected the students who will meet with Minister Granger, and backgrounds check out. While there, it will be the standard school tour, assembly, student meet and greet etcetera. We’ll also be going into the town of Beauxvallée right outside the school to meet with the refugee parents—security will be increased. We will conclude our trip with dinner at the school.”

Montague looks up at the dignitaries and staff; thankfully they are all still listening. “Our final day will be spent visiting businesses on the Rue des Mystères and the surrounding muggle area. It should be a fairly relaxed day as talking to the business owners is purely for photo ops. The evening will be followed by the State Dinner, and off to the next city in the morning. Any questions?”

He looks around and sees everyone comfortable with the situation. “Good. Make sure your extendable bags are packed with everything important, just in case.”

Hermione’s eyes widen, and she leans into Draco, “You have the camera, right?”

Draco chuckles and says, “Of course. I even have a separate memory card. No one’s getting those photos. I’m going to have a coffee table book made for my room.”

She blushes and nudges his side, “Cheeky.”

As the fireplace in the hotel expands, it erupts in green flames.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Draco states.

—xoxox—

The day’s political formalities are pleasant, especially with Minister Dupree sharing many of Minister Granger’s policies. However, there are a few times during the private audiences, Allie needs to shoot a cooling spell to keep Hermione and Draco awake.

As per usual, Hermione’s speech was inspirational, but the follow-up questions were gossip-ridden. Draco had to remind himself to bite his tongue and not intervene. She handles the situation with such style and grace; his mother would have been proud.

With the dinner being held at the hotel, Hermione invited Draco’s in-laws, Theodore and Daphne Nott. They have lived in France since shortly after the rebuilding of Hogwarts. When they received the Minister’s invitation, they immediately accepted.

Truthfully, Hermione didn’t have any issues with either Theodore or Daphne while at school. Theo was a bit socially awkward and kept to himself. Daphne may have been friends with Pansy Parkinson, but she never joined in any taunting. The Notts were clever and were in almost all of Hermione’s advanced classes. On more than one occasion, Hermione teamed up with the pair of Slytherins for school projects.

When the Notts arrive at the hotel, they are put through several security measures and have their wands taken for inspection. Once given the go-ahead, they proceed to hug Hermione and Draco and kiss their cheeks. Parisian customs have clearly become the norm for the pure-bloods and take Hermione and Draco by surprise.

Daphne grasps Hermione’s hands between her own and says, “It’s so good to see you, Hermione. I knew something was going on at the engagement party.” The elegant blonde seems not to have aged past thirty-five. “I want you to know. Tori would be happy. Draco looks happy, and that’s all she ever wanted.”

The woman’s smile and kind words affect Hermione, and she returns it with yet another hug. “Thank you, Daphne,” she says sincerely, thankful to have Draco’s family’s blessing.

Out of earshot of the women, Theo says to Draco, “You son of a bitch.”

“I’m sorry, dear Theodore, I have no idea what you’re on about,” Draco shrugs.

“Arsehole. I talked to Blaise. The entire time at school? Really? It took you almost forty bleeding years for you to nut up and make her yours?” Theo teases.

Draco laughs, “Well, both of us had to grow up and wait for the right time. If I did it back then, we’d probably be dead. Also, my dear brother-in-law, we wouldn’t be related.”

“Fair point. Come here you old sod,” Theo grabs him around the neck and gives him another hug.

“Theo,” Draco says uncomfortable with the amount of affection, “You’ve become too French.”

“Oh!” Daphne exclaims. “We were going to tell you over dinner, but we’re returning to Britain! We’ll be grooming Simon to take over Crosslip Heights, the Nott home, and Arabella will be taking over Meadow Hall, my family home, with her fiance Pierre Joubert, of Joubert Apothecaries. Both the estates have fallen in such disrepair. We just couldn’t ignore them anymore.”

“That and the fact you’re shagging the minister, Draco. When we head home, no one will think twice about my Death Eater father,” Theo says so nonchalantly it takes Hermione by surprise. She only knew quiet, studious Theodore Nott. This must be the version of himself he only shows to friends.

Daphne smacks him upside the head. “Darling, must you be so crass? You’ve only had two glasses of wine. Could you please behave yourself for the rest of the evening?”

“Sorry, my love. Just being back with Draco makes me regress to my teenage self.” Theo takes Hermione’s hand and kisses it. “I apologize for my actions, Minister.”

“All is forgiven, Theodore. Truthfully, we’re all old enough that most people don’t remember who was and wasn’t a Death Eater.”

Theo winces as the truth dawns on him, “Well that’s just depressing. Not only do I have gray pubes now, my father is considered ancient history.”

The four of them all laugh and make their way to dinner.

—xoxox—

The next day, the group arrives via secure floo to Beauxbatons, with Minister Dupree awaiting. He tours the group around the grand castle and lush gardens. The school is something truly remarkable, reminding Hermione of a Muggle fairy tale. As almost everyone working for the Ministry graduated from Hogwarts, they couldn’t help but stare in awe.

They pop into different classrooms to make surprise visits, including a choir room and drama class.

“They have a performing arts program here?” Draco says stunned.

“Of course, Monsieur Malfoy. ‘Ogwarts does not?” Minister Dupree asks.

“They didn’t when we attended,” Hermione interjects. “Such a shame. Draco was a _brilliant_ songwriter.”

Hermione’s joke is not lost on Draco, and he pinches her side, making her wriggle at his touch.

Madame Beaumont had arranged to have the minister meet the refugee children in a more intimate setting, over lunch and away from the great hall. A teachers’ lounge has been decorated for their arrival. The room had been cleared of the usual worn, comfortable furniture, and replaced with several round tables with white linens and centerpieces of white roses and lavender. Truthfully, the room is beautiful without the additional decorations. The antique silk-covered walls frame the large windows, decorated with clear and stained glass that overlook the hedge maze.

Hermione, Draco, and Minister Dupree are escorted to their table while their staff members take seats at the other tables. The heavy wooden doors creak as Madame Beaumont enters and six children follow. Hermione’s eyes go straight to a girl, not older than thirteen holding the hand of a boy no older than six. A boy around the age of sixteen walks in last, with slumped shoulders, nervously messing with his long hair and uniform collar.

“Minister Dupree, Minister Granger, Monsieur Malfoy, may I introduce Yara, Rima, Amira, little Mahdi, Farid, and Qasim.” The headmistress cues the children to acknowledge the politicians and Draco.

As the students nod and wave nervously, Hermione rises out of her seat and comes around to greet them each personally. Realizing their major faux pas, the men follow suit. As she shakes the hand of each child, she makes an effort to find one thing to compliment them on—their beautiful eyes, smile, a trinket they were holding, a necklace, their posture—something to show them she noticed them and they were special. Hermione even went as far as to tuck the little ones in their chairs and pat them on the heads. The headmistress didn’t interrupt Hermione but watches with admiration for her kindness and sincerity.

The children are quiet and are unsure of what to say, but they smile and look happy to be there. Hermione and Draco know those looks well, also having been children of war. He takes her hand and kisses it. This makes the girls at the table giggle, and the tension diffuses a little.

“You know, I _loved_ school,” Hermione says to the children.

Draco chuckles and says, “That’s an understatement.”

The boys start laughing too, except the long-haired boy, Qasim, who still seems guarded.

Hermione shoots Draco a playful look and shakes her head. “Do you all like going to school? What about you, little one?”

Mahdi smiles brightly and bobs his head up and down, “Yes, ma’am! I love school. I don’t have to hide my magic.”

“My, my! Your English is wonderful!” Hermione exclaims as the boy beams.

“Minister, five of these children were rescued from Halabiye Academie, where they had an excellent language program. Most children speak Arabic, Kurdish, French, and English,” Madame Beaumont explains. “But Mahdi here is a prodigy, not only in languages but magic as well.”

“My brother was a target,” Amira pipes up. “I was away at school when I received an urgent letter by falcon from my mother.” The girl swallows hard as she tries to put the words together. “The Blessed Dark Brotherhood learned of my brother’s power. My mother was tutoring him at home until he was old enough to attend school, but knowledge of Mahdi’s abilities spread quickly. One night, the Brotherhood took my father right from his bed. It was only because Mahdi had a nightmare my mother wasn’t taken. You see, she was in his room soothing him when they came.”

The little boy puts his face in his sister’s lap and covers his ears, not wanting to recount this tale.

Amira strokes her little brother’s hair and continues as tears stream down her face. “As they came into the room, Mahdi had a burst of accidental magic, blowing the intruders into the walls so hard it caused the house to collapse. My mother had just enough time to grab our falcon and a few supplies, before she and Mahdi hopped on the carpet, heading to the school for refuge.”

The other children lowered their heads and tried to wipe away the silent tears.

“Amira, you can stop if you want to,” Madame Beaumont says.

“No, my story is important. The ministers need to hear it.” The strength and determination in the young girl’s voice reminded Hermione of her own. Amira starts again, “Simorgh, our bird, arrived maybe an hour or two before my mother and brother came. We had just enough time to fortify the school and call for assistance. I was so happy to see Mama and Mahdi. But—” she wipes the tears that are now falling in giant droplets “—they were right behind Mama. She forgot to use a cloaking spell. She...she...was so scared, too scared to think. She made Mahdi run to me, and she took her stand next to the teachers and aurors. We were shuffled away, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Mama fought so bravely, but she wasn’t good enough. She was petrified, they snapped her wand, and then the green light.”

Amira takes her little brother in her arms and hugs him tightly as they weep.

Once again, Hermione leaves her seat. She doesn’t wipe her tears away. She wants everyone to see her tears. She wants everyone to know that these children and their stories mean something to her. Hermione kneels next to Amira and Mahdi, kissing them both on the forehead. She places a hand on each of their cheeks and tells them, “Your mother is a hero. She died protecting you. Did you know, that a mother’s love is some of the most powerful magic in the world?”

They shake their heads side-to-side. Hermione smiles, “My best friend, Harry Potter. Have you heard of him?” They nod their heads up and down excitedly in acknowledgment. “Well, when Harry was a baby, his mummy died protecting him too. Her love and magic protected him from the darkest wizard of our age. I believe that your mum’s love protects you now and you are so lucky to have each other.” Hermione scoops the two children in her arms in a warm motherly embrace. She feels their tension disappear in her arms.

When she releases them, instead of taking her seat next to Draco, she takes Mahdi’s seat and pops him on her lap. 

Draco looks over to her and mouths, “I love you.” 

She mouths back to him, “I love you, too.”

Minister Dupree takes out a handkerchief and cleans the tears off his glasses. “Madame, you mentioned that five of these children were rescued from the school, but there are six here.”

“Qasim, do you want to tell the Ministers and Monsieur Malfoy about your escape?” the headmistress asks the boy to her left.

He slumps in his chair and says, “Can you do it for me?”

“Of course,” she pats the boy on the shoulder in reassurance. “Qasim was drafted into the Brotherhood at only fourteen. He is sixteen now. They made him do unspeakable things under the Imperius Curse. International forces seized his camp and killed his mentor, releasing him from the curse. Qasim surrendered and promised to tell everything he knew for refuge. But they didn’t believe him at first as he was marked.”

At the words, ‘marked,’ Draco’s eyes peered more intently at the boy. He smooths his long hair closer to his face and neck and tugs on his collar. His behavior is all too familiar and Draco realizes his mark is on his neck. Unlike his own, it can’t be easily hidden by long-sleeved shirts. He sympathizes with the boy—no, he was the boy. “Headmistress, do you mind switching seats with me?”

Her face softens and says, “Of course.”

As Draco makes his way to his new seat, he takes off his jacket, removes his cufflink, and rolls his sleeve up. “Qasim, can I show you something?”

The young man says, “Yes, sir.”

Draco smiles and turns to the boy and presents his left forearm. “It has faded over the years, but you can still see it. My boy, do you know what is on my arm?”

“That’s the Dark Mark. I’ve seen it in history books, ” the boy’s eyes widen in curiosity.

“You hear that, Hermione? History books.” Draco shakes his head with a laugh.

“Ah, time has a cruel way of catching up with us, doesn’t it?” Minister Dupree jokes.

“Indeed it does,” replies Draco.

Becoming more comfortable with the situation, Qasim asks, “You were a Death Eater?”

Draco nods his head, “Yes. I didn’t really have much of a choice. It was not long after my sixteenth birthday. The Dark Lord—Voldemort—threatened my mother and myself if I didn’t take the Mark. I thought I was bringing honor to my family and protecting my mum. Instead, they used me and broke me and took away what was left of my childhood.”

“They did the same to me,” Qasim says with an unsteady voice. “They also made me take others childhoods.”

“Me too. It took me a long time to heal, inside and out. But,” Draco tucks the boy’s hair behind his ear exposing an Arabic symbol, “these markings fade after the fall. If we’re all brave and we all take down the Darkness, your mark will fade too.”  

A spark of hope lights in Qasim and he says, “Thank you, sir. That’s what I want to do. I want to become an auror and go back out and fight. Take down the men who hurt me and my family.”

The former Death Eater squeezes the boy on the shoulder and says, “That’s a good lad. But you also need to be brave enough to let love back into your heart so your soul can heal too. Vengeance and hatred aren’t the only things worth fighting for. Do you understand?”

Qasim shakes his head and throws his arms around Draco’s neck. Draco was taken by surprise but squeezes the boy back tightly. He sees so much of himself in this boy—the fear, regret, and craving for affection. They release each other and Qasim is a bit embarrassed. Draco sees this and ruffles the boy’s hair playfully.

“Wow. A Death Eater and a War Heroine? How did that happen?” Farid, the other boy asks.

Draco and Hermione laugh. She says, “My dear, boy. That is another story for another time. A very, very long story.”

—xoxox—

The rest of lunch is spent eating a warm, comforting meal, and listening to all of the children’s stories of bravery and adversity. Hermione and Draco’s hearts feel heavy. They weren’t much older than these kids when they were in similar situations. The boys and girls before them saw horrors, yet still have so much hope and determination. The type of hope and determination that can win a war.

After lunch, the visitors take carriages into the neighboring town of Beauxvallée. During the ride down, Minister Dupree explains more about the refugee situation. Because of magic, the screening process has been much easier than that of the muggle government. They have implemented wand examination, legilimency, and veritaserum. He says, “Yes, it may seem like extreme measures, but it was the only way to appease the general public and the French Government. The international forces rescued parents, children too young to attend school, and defunct Brothers willing to cooperate. We had to do something.”

Hermione massages her temples as this is the same decision she was ready to make. “Are all the children and parents witches and wizards?”

“No. We have about fifty or so _sansmagiques_ , or muggles, as you call them. We have a few poor farmers and shepherds. We have easily found them positions on tenement farms. But others, we have had to be a bit more creative.”

“How so?” Hermione inquires as Draco listens intently.

Minister Dupree continues, “for those who came from working class backgrounds, most work alongside elves in kitchens, gardens, doing laundry, construction, and the like. The parents who came to us who were teachers, doctors, accountants, goodness, even the tech industry, posed an exceptional challenge. One woman, we were able to get her a position at the wizarding primary school teaching basics and our equivalent of muggle studies. One gentleman was a professor of physics and aerodynamics, much too qualified for a primary school, so we are working on his visa and employment at a university. In the meantime, he has been doing consulting for the Nimbus company.”

Draco’s ears perk up, “Really? Muggle mathematics, science, and research combined with magic. Well, Firebolt will finally be kicked off their pedestal.” Draco takes out his mobile and starts texting.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Hermione asks curiously.

“Telling Ernie I want to buy as much stock as I can in Nimus,” he mutters nonchalantly.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Minister Dupree chuckles.

“Any other interesting placements for the muggle parents, Minister?” Hermione’s interest growing at the prospects.

Minister Dupree smiles at her proudly, “Doctors working with healers, military working with aurors, and web developers working with wizarding communications companies. This is just our first wave of refugees. We have found employment or roles in the refugee quarter for all the parents, magical and otherwise. This little community has been working in harmony toward a common goal — a life of peace and productivity. Sometimes it makes you wonder if the Statute of Secrecy is still necessary, doesn’t it?”

“It truly does, Minister. We may not be there yet, but we could be progressing into a world of equality in which the magical and non-magical can co-exist. You should be very proud of yourself. You will have my support on your proposal in regards to the refugees at the Summit,” Hermione says while presenting her hand.

“Thank you, Madame Minister.”

—xoxox—

They return to the castle and freshen up before dinner. Draco and Hermione ask for some time alone to process the day’s events. Listening to story after story of hope, heartbreak, and tragedy claw at their subconscious and bring up the past. A prefect escorts them to the staff sleeping quarters and they find a room without any current inhabitants. They thank the girl as she waves farewell.

Draco loosens his tie and throws it on the desk. His knees weaken, and he sits on the edge of the small bed. He has kept his composure all day but can no longer stifle his sobs. “Why do they do this, Hermione? These kids, their parents. We were in their place. Why do they make children part of their agenda? Why did they make us a part of their agenda?”

She crawls next to him on the bed and coaxes him to lie down with her. Hermione smooths her hands on his back and arms, soothing him and says, “Because they are weak and they think taking it out on children makes them stronger. But they are wrong,” she turns him to face her. “They think they can break and manipulate, but look at those kids, look at us. We came out stronger.”

He kisses her tenderly, “I wish you never made me erase your memory. Things could have ended up so differently. We could have—”

She puts a finger to his lips silencing, “Everything happens for a reason. We both loved and lost. Fought and lived. This right now is the right time. We needed all of those experiences to make everything  we have now worth it.”

“I love you, and I’m never letting you go,” he says, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“You better not,” she says before kissing him again. “Come now. We have to get ready for dinner.”

“Can we just lay like this for five more minutes?” he pleads softly, still in a vulnerable state.

“Of course.”

—xoxox—

Beauxbatons Academy has prepared an incredible feast with performances by their dance troupe, choir, and players. There is even an impressive light show by their pyrotechnic charms club. This is welcome after the emotionally taxing day. Both Ministers are set to deliver speeches. Minister Dupree’s is lighthearted, jovial, and recalls his days as a student. He expresses the values of friendship and how friendships can change the world. He uses this as the perfect segue to introduce Hermione.  

She and Draco stand up so that he can translate for her. “Thank you, Minister Dupree, for the warm welcome, also to Madame Beaumont, faculty, students, and parents who have made us all feel so welcome. As expected when returning to school, I have learned valuable lessons I will share upon my return to Britain.

“As you are students, I know that you will be immensely bored if I speak too long, so I will just leave you with this. You all inspire me. Friendship, acceptance, and forgiveness are incredibly difficult challenges for anyone, not to mention the current political climate. But remember, _the lines of war are drawn in the sand, they are not etched in marble_. The lines shift with the wind and the waves. Allegiances can change. Your enemy can become your friend—maybe even more. Listen, learn, and above all, love. Thank you.”

Draco smiles and gives her a kiss on the cheek, causing more giggles and chatter amongst the student body. He whispers in her ear, “I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you in front of the whole school. Wrong school and wrong era, but that was exactly the response I hoped for.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that was a heavy chapter and it's going to be an emotional roller coaster for the next three after that. I promise there will be some comic relief, but more heavy themes ahead before happily ever after. Oh, we are getting so close to the end! 
> 
> Please feel free to leave review or send an ask to my [Tumblr](https://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> <3 SaintDionysus


	26. Politik Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: The diplomatic tour continues and the growing threat has arrived.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Violence, terrorism, child abuse via magic, and implied death. If you have been reading this story, you will know that something is coming.
> 
> Rating: M for drama, violence, implied sexual situations, and language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was too much to include in one chapter. I had to split into two!
> 
> Forever grateful to Mama2HPBabies for being the greatest Alpha/Beta of all time. I really struggled with this chapter and couldn’t have done it without you. Also, thanks to LightofEvolution for helping me with some great German words!

****By the final day in France, the British and French diplomatic teams are getting along swimmingly. They spend the day meeting business owners and posing for photos. Discussion of economic development and integrating muggle technology is a much lighter topic of conversation than those of yesterday.

Strolling in the Parisian spring air, hand-in-hand, is much needed and brings Hermione and Draco back out of the depths of past traumas. Visiting the children and their parents reopened old wounds. Neither of them slept well, and spent the night consoling each other as nightmares seeped into their subconscious.

While neither of them has ever been big on public displays of affection, it feels so natural when they are together. Every touch is a soothing tonic for the soul.  They know the press are having a field day with all the hand-holding and stolen kisses, but at this point, they don’t care. They know as long as they have each other, they can take down an army.

—xoxox—

As they arrive at the French Minister’s Mansion for the State Dinner, Hermione fiddles with the opulent emerald pendant. It makes the statement Draco hoped for as it rests against the black satin gown. He is wearing classic black dress robes with a tie pin that matches Hermione's jewelry.

“So are you ready to be introduced as, ‘Minister Hermione Granger, escorted by Monsieur Draco Malfoy?’” she asks.

“I guess those are alright titles for now…” he trails off.

“What is that supposed to —” she tries to ask but is cut off by the announcement, signaling their entrance into the ballroom.

Once inside, Hermione is escorted to meet with the other dignitaries while Draco is left to wander and mingle with the guests.

Something catches Draco's attention as he overhears two women mumbling in French about how appalling it is that the Minister could so easily flaunt her lover shortly after divorcing her husband. Unbeknownst to them, he understands the entire conversation. He turns to the women and says, “Bonjour Madames et Mademoiselles.”

“Bonjour Monsieur Malfoy,” Madame Dupree returns the pleasantries. “How are you and Minister Granger enjoying Paris?”

“Lovely this time of year. My family would spend the summer holidays in France when I was a boy, but I haven’t had a chance to see it in the spring before. Just beautiful. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

“Oh,” she says putting her hand over her mouth realizing she made a grave mistake.”

“Well, yes. You know throughout history, especially French history, the mistresses of kings and politicians were quite public with their affairs. Some of which gained their own titles. Well, Minister Granger, being one who doesn’t stand for gender inequality, bestowed a title upon me as well.”

The woman, now beet red with embarrassment attempts to keep her composure, “Yes, Monsieur Malfoy, and that title would be?”

“Translator,” he slowly finishes his champagne and stares as she swallows her pride uncomfortably. Upon his last sip, he draws the crystal flute away and says, “But behind closed doors, she calls me her _cunning linguist_.” He gives the women a wink, a chuckles at the women’s agape mouths, and walks away.  

Draco passes a waiter and hands his empty glass and takes two new fresh ones. On the other side of the ballroom, Hermione is charming as ever with the French dignitaries. Watching her smile and casually debate fills him with pride. Never in her life has she let men with power intimidate her. He sneakily kisses her on the back of her neck and slides to her side.

“I wondered where you had gone off to,” Hermione says cheerfully, taking the fresh glass of champagne.

“Oh, I just had a rousing conversation with your wife, Minister Dupree,” Draco says with a smirk.

“What has she done now?” He laughs.

“Just what most society wives do,” he says while wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist.

“By that you mean gossip?” Minister Dupree says with a haughty laugh. “My wife means well, but sometimes when she’s in the company of, well...interesting characters, her mouth moves faster than her tact.”

“Ah, sounds a bit like my ex-husband,” Hermione says.

“Is that why you never brought him on your international tours?” the minister inquires.

“One of many reasons. I don’t think he was ever cut out to be a politician’s spouse,” she jokes.

“Ah! And you, Monsieur Malfoy, are you cut out to be a politician’s spouse?” Minister Dupree asks suggestively.

“Well, with Hermione retiring from politics in a few weeks time, I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Draco replies giving Hermione a coquettish grin.

“I guess not,” she says before taking a sip of her champagne.

“But you know, my father had always hoped I would go into politics. I’m starting to think he was right.” He gives her a wink, hoping she picks up on his implications.

Her eyes open wide, at a loss for words.

“Monsieur Malfoy, are you saying to want to be the next minister?” the Frenchman asks.

“No! Merlin, no,” he laughs. “I just wanted to tease and get a reaction out of Hermione.” He winks and gives her a kiss on the cheek, “I think my lady is quite looking forward to some rest and relaxation after her term ends.”

“That I am.”

—xoxox—

“Dinner was interesting, wasn't it?” Hermione asks sarcastically as she turns her back to Draco, motioning for him to unzip the gown.

"Oh, yes,” mimicking sarcasm, while slowly unzipping the dress, making sure not to catch her skin. “The jabs at your divorce, our relationship, and the attack on yours and Minister Dupree’s policies.” Her bare back is so enticing. He can’t help but run a finger up and down her spine, causing goose pimples to raise at his touch. His lips place soft kisses on her shoulders, pushing the fabric down as he continues the chatting. “Ah, Mother would be so proud of me. Keeping a smile on my face whilst listening to insipid conversation. How many more of those dinners do we have to attend?"

She turns to him as the gown falls to the floor and answers, "Five."

His hands slide down her bare sides and cup her bottom. "Ah, well, that's still less than the average pure-blood social season. I think I can deal with a few more. But I think I deserve a reward for being so charming despite wanting to use a sticking charm on the mouths of those twits."

"A reward if you were good, a punishment if you were bad," she says with a wink.

He pushes her backward onto the bed and responds, "I'll take both."

—xoxox—

After visiting Spain, Portugal, Greece, and Bulgaria, it is another late night arrival to another hotel rooftop. Hotel Adlon Kempkinski is a muggle hotel that has hosted royalty and celebrity superstars, which makes it the perfect location for the ministry to set up their home base for the final leg of the tour. It’s in an area that many wizards and witches are afraid to venture into because of its locations so close to muggle tourist attractions and monuments. Additionally, not only is it secure in the muggle sense with private entrances and passageways, closed circuit security cameras, and burly guards, but those efforts combined with wards and aurors, they create a fortress disguised in luxury.

The awaiting security detail has a look about them that doesn’t settle well with Draco. The aurors sport dark circles under their eyes, while others walk with limps and roll their sore shoulders. Hermione left his side to chat with Evan. Draco assumes she is tired and focused on Evan’s plans; she hasn't paid any mind to the aurors.

“Allie,” Draco calls to the young woman. “Take a look at them. Notice anything?”

She observes the security team’s body language and nods her head. “Do you think Montague is going to tell us what’s going on?”

“I hope so. Let’s join Hermione and ask,”  he states.

Draco and Allie are unable to disguise their worried looks, and Evan takes notice. Before they can say anything, he interjects,  “Let’s get to the . Clearly post haste. I have a lot to tell you.”

—xoxox—

Hermione, Draco, and Allie sit on a sofa opposite Evan. The auror rubs the stress and tension from his neck and blurts, “I’m just going to cut to the chase. A select group of aurors arrived in Germany early at the request of the German Assembly. Of course, I left the most skilled with you, Minister. Our aurors, along with the German and other international auror task forces were able to thwart efforts and take down ten of the Blessed Dark’s cells here in Berlin. The terrorists are currently in interrogation at the Verhörraum. I don’t know all the details, but I know that it’s going well and a lot of information was extracted thus far.”

Evan stands up and paces. The three sitting on the couch don’t know if they should interrupt, but Evan continues, “Harry wants us to pull out. He thinks this is too dangerous and the capture of the cells was far too easy.”

“Well, we should pull out. Head back to London immediately,” Draco states plainly.

“I would agree, but the Germans have a plan and want to know if we could be a part of it, especially with Hermione’s past and status,” Evan clears his throat, and he feels their eyes boring holes into him. “The summit will have the gathering of the most powerful magical leaders in the world, even the president of MACUSA is here. The Germans want to use all of you as bait to lure what is left of the Brotherhood out. They’re getting frantic after losing most of their forces in the city.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco commands. “No. Hermione’s life will not be put in danger.” His hands are starting to shake at the thought.

“Draco,” Hermione puts her hand reassuringly on his. “Let Evan finish.”

The auror nods and turns to Allie, “The Germans suggested polyjuice potion. Allie, would you be willing to swap places with the minister—”

“No!” Hermione’s protective nature evident in the tone of her voice. “We will not put Allie in the line of fire. I will do it.”

“You can’t be serious?” Draco seethes.

Allie musters all her strength and says, “No, Minister! I’ll do it. I promised to serve you in any way possible—”

“No. It’s going to be me. If we’re going to take down these sons of bitches, I’m going to be a part of it.” She turns to Draco and sees him going pale. Her hand caresses his face and says, “We’ll be okay. We’ll be at each other’s side the whole time. I’ll need you on my left. You know it’s my weak side, and Allie will cover my rear.”

“Can’t I cover your rear?” he jokes nervously. Her smile fills him with some of her courage, and he sighs. “Will you ever grow out of this reckless bravery?”

“Sorry, no. You’re stuck with it. But I’m going to need your cool head and resourcefulness to get through this,” she puts her forehead to his.

“Fuck. Harry’s not going to like this,” Evan grumbles. “I’ll alert him and tell the Germans we’re in. Get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

—xoxox—

The summit begins with the delegation meeting in the highly secure German Assembly. Proposals are up for debate with voting set for the end of the summit. If the tour was any indicator, the diplomats are torn. Domestic policy weighs on many of the nations, but the desire to bring balance to the war-torn countries cannot be ignored. It’s only when the Germans and French provide shocking and frightening testimony from parents and children about the wand-stripping and obscurial development tactics, do they elicit emotions from the otherwise stoic politicians. Hermione lends her support to her allies, hopeful that they can bring more nations to aid.

—xoxox—

After a day of discussion and stalemates, Hermione, Draco, and the rest of the diplomatic team arrive back at the hotel to get ready for the final state dinner.  

After the first meeting with Harry over a month ago, Hermione had a feeling that she would eventually become a target and had something special made for this occasion. Every inch of her formal wear is an illusion. The frock was made of a rich fabric with the appearance of black and metallic silk dupioni. The truth is the silk was woven with goblin steel thread that will reflect most spells. The designer, Alexander Malkin, who also designed for muggles, refers to this unique blend of materials as magical kevlar. The ‘gown’ with buttons down the back and a high neck isn’t a gown at all. It’s short in the front and worn with trousers, and the long train is detachable and can be used as a shield. Outwardly, she looks like she is pushing the boundaries of haute couture when in fact, she is a leader ready for battle.

Draco takes a few precautions of his own. He keeps a few vials of poisons, bezoars, and healing potions in his pockets. He’s doing his best to stay strong with a brave face, but the truth is he is terrified. He saw enough war in his lifetime to never want to go back into battle again. How she maintains her composure and bravery after all these years is beyond him. His memories assault his mind, recalling the tortured girl on his floor, screaming, fighting, and looking up to him for help. _Never again_ , he thinks to himself. He will keep her safe at all costs.

—xoxox—

Upon arriving at Chancellor Schreiber’s mansion, they catch up with other emissaries they recently visited and others Hermione hasn’t seen for some time. Minister Taki Stephanopolous of Greece is warm and jovial as ever. The older man, with olive skin and white hair, has the air of a loving, funny uncle. It is apparent why he had been in office for so long. The kindness in his eyes told a million stories.

“Hermione!” he yells joyously as he cups her face in both his hands and kisses her on the forehead. “I have missed you so!”

“Minister, it’s only been four days,” smiling at the kindly old man.

“Four days too long. And how many times have I told you? Call me Taki. If it suits you, Uncle Taki,” he says warmly taking her hands.

“Well, then, Taki, where is the missus?” Hermione asks.

He pauses as if trying to find the right words, “Ah. Well, Maria wasn't feeling well and decided to stay behind—” changing the subject quickly, “Hermione, did you know your name is a Greek name? From the Odyssey.”

“Yes, Taki. You remind me every time we see each other,” she laughs, amused by his absent-mindedness.

“Well, you always forget to call me by my first name. I don't know what else you forget,” he wags a finger at her. He then cups Draco's face and kisses him on the forehead in the same way. “Draco, that's a Latin name, but the Romans stole everything from the Greeks, so your name is Greek too.”

Draco laughs, “I like your logic, Taki. You know,  my late wife was half Greek.”

“Was she now? Why didn't you tell me before? What was her family name?” He asks inquisitively.

“Her father is Carson Greengrass, and her mother is Helen Mavros,” Draco answers.

“Ah! I knew Hyperion Mavros. We were friends in school before he moved to England,” he reminisces.

“My son is named for him. Scorpius Hyperion.”

“That's a good name,” Taki claps Draco on the shoulder then hooks his arms with both Hermione and Draco. “Help an old man around the room to mingle?”

“Of course we will,” Draco beams as this old man reminds him of Astoria's grandfather.

“Hermione. I know I already said it, but I like this one. Handsome, well-mannered, great taste in women…” he winks at the pair of them. “When your term is up, come to Greece on holiday. Maria will feed you. Draco, do you like grilled octopus?”

“I love it. Especially if it's preceded by a good flaming saganaki and a bottle of ouzo is nearby.”

“Oh, my boy, we will share so much ouzo! _Opa!_ ”

They laugh as they approach Minister Santos of Spain and Minister Ronaldo of Portugal.  Minister Santos appears to have also gotten the memo and opted for trousers over a gown. Her red, wide-leg, one-piece jumpsuit is chic, but Hermione would not be surprised if she also had a few magical features built into her ensemble as well.

“Elena!” Hermione kisses her on the cheek. The women have been close allies since they first took their respective offices. They both were elected very young and had daunting obstacles in their way—Elena with the overwhelming pressure of being the third Minister in her family, and Hermione being a war heroine and public figure since her early teens. “How are you? Is the summit helping you change your mind at all?”

Elena takes her husband’s hand and says, “Yes. After your visit and speaking to my council, Spain will be sending aid. These forces need to be stopped. We mustn’t let this carry on any longer.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Hermione smiles with a slight sense of victory in her voice.

Draco leans into Armando’s ear and speaks in Spanish, “Aren’t powerful women sexy?”

“The sexiest,” the Spaniard replies with a boyish grin.  

The women turn to the leader of Portugal. A former Quidditch star-turned-politician, he’s handsome with black hair, hazel eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a svelte frame; clearly a seeker’s build. He has aged well and isn’t much older than Hermione or Elena.

“Ministro Ronaldo,” the Elena asks him, “y tu? Have you decided to join the fight?”

He sighs and grips his glass tight, “My heart says yes, but we cannot sustain it. Our reserves are tapped, and our economic plans are failing. Not because they aren’t good ideas. We’ve been following Britain and France’s initiatives, but the older wizards and witches are resistant to change. The younger generation is trying to create businesses, but many are emigrating. I’m sorry, but it looks like domestic policy will have to take precedence over aid.”

“Paulo, there is no shame in that,” Hermione says casually, making Draco raise an eyebrow at how comfortable she is with using his first name. “My daughter and her economic development team have a visit planned in a few weeks. I’m sure there are some initiatives you haven’t tried yet.”

“We look forward to her visit, Hermione,” he smiles.

“Quidditch players...” Draco mumbles under his breath.

“What was that darling?” she caught what he said but wants to put him on the spot.

“Nothing,” he avoids her stare.

She turns to him and whispers in his ear, “You know I have a type, especially the brooding, sexy, romantic, and jealous type.” Her teeth discreetly nip at his earlobe.

Forgetting they are in the company of others, he pulls her in close and says, “I should have known you’re the type to play games to make men jealous.” He then kisses her, wiping the smirk off her face.

—xoxox—

The world leaders and their significant others sit at a large feasting table, while their support staff sits at round tables. Though not as tense as he was earlier, Draco does not let his guard down. He remembers his training and looks for all exits, to see signs how much security is in the room with them. It’s hard to tell as he assumes several aurors are undercover. He has an awful feeling about their situation and takes Hermione’s hand under the table protectively.

“Something wrong?” She asks.

“Stay alert, love. Something doesn’t feel right.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t put away your wand.”

She breathes deeply, preparing herself for whatever may come her way. The doors fly open, and several waiters all make their way in carrying trays of champagne flutes and hand them to the guests. Draco notices a bead of sweat coming down his waiter’s face and him shaking nervously, as he hands the glass to Hermione. Evan’s eyes meet Draco’s, and they nod having the same suspicions. Hermione is about to put the glass to her lips when Draco places his hand over it. He smells his own and shakes his head. She gasps quietly, realizing that the champagne was poisoned.

Chancellor Schreiber stands to give his toast, “Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies, and Gentlemen! Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome!”

As the Chancellor continues his welcome toast, Draco and Hermione notice the movement of figures around the room—with the dim lights and incognito attire, it’s hard to tell if it’s friend or foe. Their suspicions grow as the waiters’ body language tense like a predator about to pounce. Draco strokes a finger down his temple signaling to Evan to read his mind.

 _“Evan, I’m going to vaporize the champagne and try to dispose of it. All hell will break lose, but if we don’t, this entire room will end up poisoned,”_ Draco projects.

 _“You’re right. We’re in position. I hope you know what you’re doing,”_ Evan responds, occluding his mind once more.  

He whispers to Hermione, “Get ready, and throw your train over Taki.”

“Okay,” she kisses him quickly while grasping her wand tight.

Draco jumps to his feet and with a flourishing wave pulls all the champagne out the crystal glassware, transforming it into a poisonous cloud.

Whooshing sounds fill the air as nearly twenty men reveal their true selves. Every bit of their appearance is as uniform as possible — black flowing garments, unkempt, wiry beards, and long hair up in knots. Though the most menacing feature they share are the neck tattoos glowing like red burning embers—The Blessed Dark has infiltrated the event.

Hermione points at Draco’s cloud and casts a powerful gust, sending the vapors in the direction of the Brothers. Some wail in agony as the vile potion dissolves their robes, while others deflect the gas, sending into the original intended targets.

The room erupts with screams as guests duck for cover and try to make their way out.

Taki grips Hermione’s hand as she rips off her train and places it over him like a cloak, “The anti-apparition wards are up. We have nowhere to go!”

“Taki. Draco and I need to fight, but stay close to me,” she shows him the pocket watch. “This is a portkey. I can take you with us back to Britain. We can figure how to get you back home to Greece later. But first, we need to take these bastards down.”

“Hermione, wand up!” Draco demands.

“I love it when you command me,” she drawls while sending an oncoming Brother into the wall.

“Well,” he counters, deflecting a storm of spells coming his way, “as much as I love when you get into saucy moods, I could use some help here.”

She turns her head quickly to see six Brothers inching their way closer and closer, only a table standing them and the approaching forces. She moves closer to Draco’s right side, points her wand and yells, _“Bombarda!”_ In a blaze of fire, the table explodes sending the men in different directions.

With a quick look of astonishment, he says, “I’m damn glad I’m on your side this time around.”

“Me too, love. Me too.”

The fight rages on. Neither of them want to leave until they know the forces have been weakened and the innocent can escape. A spell whizzes past, hitting Hermione on the side. “AAGH!”

“Hermione!” Draco throws up a protective shield to see what happened.

“I’m fine. At least I know the goblin steel works,” she reassures Draco. “Their forces are dwindling. Taki, how are you holding up?”  

They look toward at the old man. He’s tired and struggling. Hermione’s train has been an effective shield, but the spellwork is becoming too much for him. “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

In that moment, one of the Brothers charges them with a barrage of spells, breaking through the protective barrier. Draco and Hermione deflect his curses and throw a few of their own. The man is moving fast with incredible agility, dodging and evading all spells cast in his direction. Draco sees an opening and pulls a vial out of his pocket. He breaks it and sends the vapors straight into the man’s nostrils, rendering him unconscious.

“Nice move,” she smiles at him while casting an _Incarcerous,_ binding the assailant.  

“Thanks,” Draco huffs. Eager to leave the fray and get Hermione and Taki to safety, he yells, “Evan! Start the timer!”

They hear the loud ticking of the portkeys, but Harry was right. The seconds past painfully slow in the midst of battle.

“Capture as many as you can!” Evan hollers to the aurors and dignitaries. “We need them alive.” Soon the same phrase is being commanded by head aurors in different languages.

Flashes of magic fly through the air shattering glass, destroying furniture, fine linens, and floral arrangements. Stunning spells send bodies flying across the room, while even more topple over in a state of petrification. Groups huddle closely, creating domes of protective enchantments, but they grow weak as the witches and wizards lose their concentration out of fear.

Across the room, Elena and her husband, Armando, fight the Brotherhood with the elegance of two flamenco dancers. Their movements alternate between sharp and fluid with a type of precision much different than that of the British style of dueling. The Spanish Minister and her husband easily capture and restrain the culprits as if it were a game.

“Mi Amor, you need to get out of here,” Armando insists.

“Not without you, Armando,” she retorts.

“I am not the minister. I’ll stay behind and fight with the aurors. Go with the British. Stay close to them,” he grabs her and pulls her into a searing kiss while the battle continues around them.

Elena joins Hermione and Draco and hears the ticking speed up.

“Elena, we’ll be leaving soon. Just keep fighting!” Hermione commands after stunning another enemy.

“How many more of them are there?” Elena asks, her heart pounding and out of breath, holding a defensive stance.

“I don’t know, maybe six?” Draco guesses.

“I count over twenty, maybe even closer to thirty, of us still standing,” Hermione huffs. “I’m liking these odds.”

She spoke too soon. One of the men opens a small box and shoves his entire arm inside, apparently, it has an extension charm on it. What he pulls out horrifies them — a scared child, no older than seven.

“A little girl! What is he going to do with the little girl?” Elena clutches her chest frightened for the child, forgetting the Blessed Dark have created human weapons.

 _“Crucio!”_  The Brother points at the child causing her to writhe in agony.

“NOOOOOO!” they all yell and attempt to disarm the dark wizard.

It’s too late. The child is transforming into monstrous smoke.

“It can’t be,” Taki said frightened and astonished. “An obscurial? How could they?”

Draco stands in front of the two women and elderly man and guides them backward. In their moment of fear and curiosity, they let their guards drop.

 _Crack!_ Everyone turns into the direction of the foreboding sound. A man stands, arrogantly, with his wand transfigured into an impressive bull whip. He whips it around his head and aims at Hermione.

“Draco!” Hermione gasps as her fingers tug at a whip coiled around her neck. The Brother yanks her to the floor, dragging her through debris and the mass of bodies—injured and dead—closer and closer to him. She hasn’t lost the fight yet and thrashes about, trying to free herself.

He desperately reaches out to her and sends curse after curse at her captor. “Hermione! I’m coming! Don’t give up!”

She begins to asphyxiate as the terror looms above them.

“Draco! Go to her!” Elena insists.

“Take this.” He shoves his pocketwatch in her hand.

She looks down and shakes her head, “But what about you?”

“I’ll make it to her in time,” He says without a doubt in his mind.

She nods, and he breaks out into a run. Looking above at the obscurus getting stronger, she asks the older man, “How do we save the child?”

“We don’t,” Taki’s voice breaks. “We have to kill her.”

Draco runs toward Hermione, with all that he has left. Two more Brothers break through the bonds and come to the defense of the man with the whip. Draco frantically suppresses their advances and strikes them down with a _Sectumsempra,_ leaving their skin slashed and bleeding out. He promised himself he would never give into dark magic again, but his desperation is getting the better of him, and can only think of her. He finally reaches Hermione — her eyes are bulging while she struggles for air. He petrifies her attacker and casts a _relashio,_ freeing her from the constraints. Severing the whip didn’t transfigure it back into a wand and leather is still wound tightly around Hermione’s neck. Draco’s head is too crazed to figure out what kind of magic this is. _Brrrrrrrrrng —_ the watch alarm goes off. He reaches for her, trying to pull the leather and give her air. They feel the pull of the portkey. The light in her eyes fades, and in the faintest whisper, she speaks, “Draco…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER! Sorry, everyone. It had to be done. Life just couldn't be all champagne and roses for these two. 
> 
> If you're offended by the violence, terrorism, and child abuse, remember, those were major themes in the original Harry Potter series and still fit within my story. Yes, it's a sad world we live in, but hopefully, the parallels make it easier for us to understand and sympathize.


	27. In My Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough with the cliffhanger...This is what you’ve all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This chapter is dedicated to my alpha/beta Mama2HPBabies. Honestly. I would have never gotten this far without her. She is a goddess.

**April 2030**

_Tick! Tick! Tick!_ “Padma! The portkeys started!” Hugo calls to his attending. _“Accio emergency kit!”_

“Damn! Smith. Darvill. Finish up with this patient and tell the emergency response team to head to the Ministry Atrium,” she demands with calm authority and summons her kit with wordless magic. “See  you—”

With a loud sucking sound, both healers disappear from the treatment room.

—xoxox—

“Ginny! It started!” Harry grabs his wife by the shoulders. “You know what this means. Hermione’s in trouble. Hugo’s on his way with the other healers. Call Rose and Scorpius. Don’t call Ron and your parents yet. I love—”

—xoxox—

A task force of ten aurors and ten healers arrive, alert and ready. Harry had this planned all along. While the diplomatic team has thirty seconds for departure, the domestic team had a mere ten. He wanted to make sure that they were ready for anything. Harry strides over to his nephew and suppresses the fear eating away at him. The seasoned auror must remain calm, but this isn’t any mission gone awry—this is his best friend, his sister. “Hugo, your mum will be here any second. You need to be ready for whatever condition she’s in. Can you keep your emotions at bay?”

The thought hadn’t crossed the young healer’s mind until the words spilled out of his uncle’s mouth. Hugo considers himself calculated and pragmatic. His mouth, suddenly dry, stutters, “I— I...”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no.’ Hugo. I love you, and you’re a smart kid, but I can’t let you take care of your mum. I’m putting her in Padma’s charge in case she is hurt. Understand?”

“Alright, Uncle Harry,” he says, his voice shaky, uncertainty seeping into his subconscious. Hugo grips the handle of his kit tight; he and the other healers have been carrying around emergency kits on their rounds since the start of the tour. While, they hoped it wouldn’t come to this, here they are; anxiously awaiting the diplomatic team, not knowing if they are alive, hurt, or dead.

Harry taps his wand nervously against his thigh. He regrets not being with Hermione on this trip. “Screw this responsibility,” the auror grumbles. Instincts be damned, he knew this would happen. Anxiety gnaws away at every fiber of his being. His mind races—his team, her team, Draco, Hermione— “Please, please be alright.”  

The popping noises of the portkeys go off like firecrackers. It’s worse than they imagined — the battle must have been fierce. Harry’s eyes survey the arrivals. Of the wizards and witches standing, some walk with a limp and nurse their injuries. Their beautiful clothing is tattered and burned, and mental and physical exhaustion is written on their faces. In the mayhem, Harry has difficulty identifying everyone. Lying on the ground, there are a few lifeless bodies that he can’t tell if they are unconscious or dead.

“Where’s Hermione and Draco?” He panics. Harry spots Draco’s unmistakable hair as he frantically attends to Hermione. “SHIT! Padma! This way!”

Draco pulls off the remainder of the whip binding her neck. “Hold on, love. We’re home. Just hold on.” His hands shake as he fights the crippling sensation of hopelessness. Old memories swirl in his mind, back to another time he didn’t know how to help her. _Stay focused_ , he chants to himself. He hears Harry and Padma running toward them but refuses to take his attention off of Hermione. She’s barely breathing. Carefully, he straightens her neck and tilts her head back, allowing more air to flow. He finds her pulse—it’s faint. He’s never taken a muggle CPR class or even a basic healing course on resuscitation. Draco is just repeating what he’s read in books and prays he’s doing the right thing. Instinctively, he casts a spell to fill her lungs with air.

Harry and Padma reach the unconscious minister. The healer casts a diagnostic spell and asks, “What happened?”

“Whip around the neck. She’s not breathing,” Draco’s voice trembles. He strokes her hair gently as Padma takes Hermione’s vitals and quickly assesses the next steps. Draco reaches for Hermione’s hand and kisses it. “Please. Please stay with me. I can’t lose you, too.”

With urgency, Padma insists, “Malfoy, stand back.” Something grave has happened, but she doesn’t tell the men exactly what.

He reluctantly leaves her side, but Harry is there to place a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Draco covers his mouth, trying to steady his panic. He and Harry watch Padma work quickly to administer a potion down Hermione’s throat, but she’s still unresponsive. The healer continues the aspiration spells. Sweat starts to trickle down the side of her face, and she has no choice but to begin shocking Hermione’s heart. The first jolt of magic startles the men as they watch her body jump off the ground. With baited breath, they wait for signs of improvement—she’s still unresponsive.

Tears well in Draco’s eyes and he turns to his friend, “I tried, Harry. I tried to save her. I tried to protect her. I—”

“Don’t think like that,” Harry puts on his best, brave face, but the truth is he can’t deny the reality his best friend may die before him. His breath grows ragged and he is losing his composure. Using the back of his sleeve, he wipes his eyes. He knows he should be checking on the rest of the diplomatic team, but is rooted to that spot.

Hugo sees the desperation on both Draco and Harry’s faces and finishes up with his patient. He reluctantly sees to the next patient, only wanting to be with his mother.

Draco succumbs to the grief. Watching the woman he loves, lay unconscious while he can do nothing — it is like losing Astoria all over again. Guilt takes over. He wonders if he could have prevented this, if he did enough. His knees buckle under the weight of emotion. He crawls back over to her at the exact moment Padma casts another defibrillation charm. A tear rolls down his cheek as he whispers, “Please. Wake up...”

 _Gasp!_ Hermione inhales sharply, and her eyes shoot wide open.

Relief comes over Draco, Harry, and Padma, but they know they aren't out of the woods just yet.

All of her senses have been awakened. It's altogether jarring, and she is unable to string thoughts together. Hermione’s mouth opens, attempting to speak, but the words don't come. All the muscles in her body are sore and ache. She can’t turn her head and starts to panic.

“Shh…” Draco coos as he strokes her hair and kisses her forehead. His silver eyes are tear-filled and hopeful. She is starting to piece things together. Whatever happened to her must have been bad. There is only one other time she can remember him looking that frightened.

“Hermione. Look here,” Padma’s voice is calming and assertive. She uses the Lumos charm to turn her wand into a small torch. “Follow the light. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”

The Minister obeys the healer’s instructions.

“Hermione, can you speak? One squeeze for yes, two for no.”

Two squeezes.

Padma’s reactions are difficult for Harry and Draco to read. Ever the healer, she is calm and steady and does everything she can to make sure Hermione is okay. Her hands touch the tender flesh of Hermione’s neck then peer inside her mouth. “I’m going to put a brace on your neck and put you on a stretcher. We need to get you to St. Mungo’s straight away. Your heart stopped, but we were able to resuscitate you here, at the Ministry. Did you know where you were?”

One squeeze.

“Good. But your vocal cords are damaged, the muscles in your neck are strained, and you may have some sprains to your spine or even some cracks to your upper vertebrae. I don’t have all the equipment and potions I need to treat you here.” Padma reaches into her kit and pulls out the stretcher and brace. Carefully, she affixes the device to immobilize Hermione safely, then levitates her onto the stretcher with the latches magically securing her in place. “Draco are you coming with me? I still need to check you out, as well.”

Draco nods, as Harry helps him off the floor.  

“Go with her,” Harry urges. “I need to check on everyone else. Draco. You did good. She’s home, and she’s alive.”

The two men hug, knowing this night could have had a catastrophic ending. They let go of each other and Draco helps Padma to the Ministry floo.

Hugo comes running behind them before they depart. “Mum. I’m here,” he squeezes his mother’s knee. “I have more patients, but I’ll be at the hospital soon. I love you.” Hugo’s eyes meet Draco’s. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

“You’re welcome, Hugo. Please, check on Minister Stephanopolous for me,” Draco requests.

“Of course. We’ll bring everyone to hospital for examination. I’ll let you know.” Hugo helps Padma place the stasis charm to keep Hermione stable during the floo transport.

—xoxox—

Harry is comforting Minister Santos. Her sobs and wails are uncontrollable and she can’t manage to speak. He turns to the older gentleman she arrived with and asks, “What happened?’

“She had to use the Killing Curse on a little girl,” he says sadly. “We tried to contain the obscurus and petrify the child, but nothing worked. Neither of us knew how to separate it from the girl. She had no choice.”

The woman’s sobs slow to a whimper. Her eyes look up at Harry, “It was horrible, Auror Potter. I—I didn’t think I was capable of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

“We all do things for the greater good we’re not proud of, Minister.” Harry consoles her. “Come on. Let’s get you checked out.”

The healers and aurors have separated the injured from the dead. Harry’s lips purse as he assesses the damage. Ministers Santos and Stephanopolous check in with the next available healer for triage.

Hugo attends to a gash on the side of Allie’s head. While no longer bleeding, the drying blood mats her hair in place. It’s not a pretty sight, but she seems alert and coherent.

Montague appears relatively unscathed and walks with a limp toward Harry.

“It all went wrong, Harry,” Evan groans. “Intel told us the Brotherhood planned to attack as the diplomats arrived. They were supposed to be used as bait to lure the bastards out, but their cloaking and disillusionment charms were undetectable. When we realized they infiltrated the mansion, it was too late. We lost a few of our own but made damn sure we took them down with us. But we got the lot that attacked the dinner. Well, I just heard from the Germans that they have the Brothers in custody and are going through the wringer. They have more raids planned throughout the night.”

Fearing the worst, Harry asks, “Who did we lose?”

“Collier, the Minister of Communications. Spectra, the photographer. From our team, Kissinger and,” he hesitates, “Youngblood.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and paces worriedly. “Has anyone contacted Karen’s husband yet?”

“Not yet,” Montague fights back a swear. “She was supposed to celebrate her little boy’s birthday the day she came back. We were all invited. First birthday. _Damn it!_ We told her she wasn’t ready to go back out into the field yet. She passed all the tests. I didn’t have the grounds to tell her no — just so stubborn — so damn brave.”

“Like her uncle. I’ll visit Dennis in a bit and tell him personally. Lost his brother and now his only daughter.” The lump in his throat grows to the size of a grapefruit and tastes just as bitter. “Can you go and retrieve Niall? Little Colin is probably asleep...” Harry ruffles his hair in frustration. “Fuck!”

“I know, Harry. I know. We’ll help him find someone to watch the baby,” Evan grips Harry’s shoulder in reassurance. “How’s Hermione?”

“Not good. Alive. Breathing. Merlin, I just pray no permanent damage was done to her spine.” Harry sounds as though he is going to be sick.

“She was brilliant. Draco too. They fought like hell. It was that damn obscurial. Threw us all off our game.” A buzzing goes off in his pocket. Evan looks down at the number on his mobile and picks it up immediately. “Yes? Oh, that’s excellent. How many? Fifty? Really? How many satellite bases? Seven! Send us a full report as soon as you can. I have a feeling that our Minister and Deputy Minister will need to make a statement and take action. Thank you. Oh, Yes. She’s here. I see. I’ll tell her right away and arrange for transport. Thank you again. Try to get some rest, and we’ll touch base in the morning. _Gute Nacht_ to you, too.”

“The Germans?” Harry assumes.

“Yes,” Evan recaps. “Fifty detained. Seven raids. They’ll give us the full report. I need to tell the Spanish Minister that her husband is alive, but lost a lot of blood. He’s stable, but I need to arrange a portkey and an escort. Can I send Steele?”

“Yes. He’s fresh and hasn’t been out in the field in over twenty-four hours.” Harry is glad he had a few well-rested aurors. He had a feeling it was going to be a rough couple of days. “I’m going to call Teddy in to take care of the rest of this processing and transfer. You need to get to hospital, as do I.”

“I’m not going to argue that. If you don’t mind, I’ll get a head start.”

“I’ll see you there.”  

—xoxox—

The overall mood in the Ministry atrium is anxious. Despite the numerous members of the press, both domestic and international, the crowd is quiet with the exception of a few clicks and shuttering of cameras.

A young woman with blonde hair tied into a bun, wearing a black suit, walks up to the podium. Nervously, she clears her throat and begins reading off her note cards. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Clarice Dalton, Interim Secretary of Communications. I will be delivering today’s statement on behalf of my late compatriot until Minister Granger can appoint a new Secretary. Please, can we have a moment of silence for the lives lost.” The silence is unnerving. The woman, no older than her early thirties, does her best to look stoic, despite losing her boss and mentor. “Thank you. I will now read a statement prepared by Minister Granger:

_Wizards and Witches of Britain, first responders, friends, and family, I thank you for your support at this time. The events of the past twenty-four hours have been harrowing, and I am still on the mend. Thank you to St. Mungo’s, especially Master Healer Padma Patil Lahiri, for my expedient treatment and care._

_The attack on our world leaders was cruel and calculated. Though the casualties are tragic, we have not lost hope. The capture and interrogation of the Blessed Dark Brothers have already led to raids and seizures of not only the offenders, but their captives as well. They have awoken the sleeping dragon. The leaders of Europe will no longer stand idly by as they infiltrate our homelands and spread their poisonous rhetoric._

_With that said, the British Ministry of Magic has officially declared war against the Blessed Dark and will be joining American, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Greek, Egyptian, and Kurdish rebel forces against the Brotherhood. Godspeed to the men and women heading into battle and we pray for a swift end to this conflict. In regards to the details of this plan, all operations are highly classified and will not be released to the general public._

_One thing I can mention, we have volunteers from the Scamander Institute joining the rescue teams. They are trained in the separation of the parasitic obscurus from affected children. Our hope is not to have a repeat of the events in Berlin. The magizoologists will undergo auror training before entering the field, and we are glad to welcome them to our ranks._

_For those seeking refuge on our shores, we will be allowing visas in waves. Every refugee — man, woman, and child — will undergo a mandatory legilimency and veritaserum screening, along with other methods of testing. While intrusive, it’s the quickest way to attain a visa and ensure the safety of all. Any of those unwilling to comply will be detained and deported. While we are compassionate, we must be cautious. Furthermore, any willing witch or wizard wanting to reclaim their homeland in any capacity—whether as an auror or support, will receive proper training and a signing bonus before heading back to conflict areas. We will encourage every able-bodied adult to contribute in any way they can. Additional details of the immigration and refugee MLE/support plan will be released in the coming days._

_Currently, the Ministry is in talks with Hogwarts to open for the summer and catch the refugee children up to their proper wizarding levels. The Board of Governors still has much to discuss but will come to a decision before current Hogwarts students leave for their summer holidays. The most plausible scenario will include refugee children taking intensive study over the summer with an assessment exam at the end of summer term. A proper sorting will occur at the start of the school year.  Again, they, along with their parents, would undergo a series of magical testing before admittance to Britain and the school. Parent housing and employment is another area where we will continue to find a solution. Our allies in France have had wonderful success with their programs, and we hope to model ours after it._

_Obviously, the budget is a concern when transitioning from an era of peace to joining international conflict. Detailed budget reports for these schemes will be sorted in a few short days—with urgent matters at hand. Over the past decade, we have managed expenditures and created programs that not only save money but produce, so we have experienced immense prosperity and now have a surplus in the Reserve vaults. While the Ministry can sustain the war efforts, private citizens have offered to set up a charitable trust to fund refugee care and other refugee-related initiatives._

_We have rough roads ahead of us, but I know with everyone’s support and perseverance, we will defeat the enemy. We will restore the light. The Blessed Dark cannot hide in the shadows any longer. Thank you._

“At this time, I will not be taking any questions. Everything spoken today is still being finalized, and no additional details are available.” Miss Dalton takes a sip of water, relieving her dry throat. Speaking the words of Hermione Granger was quite an intimidating task, and what she just unloaded on the public is sure to light a fire. As she sets to leave the podium, a man stands up.

“Sheppard Wolverton, Daily Prophet,” the reporter speaks out of turn, “Miss Dalton, that’s quite detailed for someone who was injured in battle less than twenty-four hours ago. How do we know that was a statement from Minister Granger and not just something concocted by the Ministry, particularly your department? How do we know you’re not trying to cover up anything. What is Minister Granger’s condition?”

Clarice grits her teeth and grasps the side of the podium and steadies herself. Wolverton has been a nightmare since he was hired by the Prophet a few months ago, and he’s not letting up. She takes a deep breath and says, “Mister Wolverton, I have already addressed the press that there will be no further questions, but as you insist on pushing this subject, I will answer, though I do not appreciate you insulting my department, especially since we lost our leader just yesterday. Minister Granger is alive and recovering at St. Mungo’s with healers watching and attending to her around the clock. Most of this speech was prepared over the length of her diplomatic tour but was intended as a proposal to the Wizengamot. In light of yesterday’s events, the Wizengamot is in unanimous compliance of all of the minister’s plans. Since the minister cannot currently speak and is being kept immobile, the rest of her statement was obtained via legilimency. She’s Hermione Granger. As long as she has a mind, she will have a voice. No. Further. Questions.”

—xoxox—

Hermione sighs of boredom cause Draco to laugh.

“Hermione, do you really want a television that bad? Someone to read you a story? What? Are you a toddler? I’ll read the news. Oh, don’t give me that face. Look,” he holds out the Prophet, “They called me a hero for rescuing you. At least they didn’t use a photo of me sobbing like a pathetic sack. There’s that beautiful smile. Alright. I’ll text Rose and have her bring a tablet or something. She’s bringing your parents anyway. It will take a while since they’re coming here by muggle means. Goodness. I didn’t realize how muggle you get when you’re ill.”

Draco can’t hide his goofy grin. He’s been having these one-sided conversations with her since she woke. He never imagined his gift of legilimency would be used for this reason. But here he is, listening to the chatter in her head, which is much faster than when she speaks. On several occasions, he has reminded her to slow down. He reaches over and kisses her forehead and runs the back of his fingertips against her arm. He’s only left her side for his examination and a shower. He luckily had his traveling bag with extension charms still on him. Though, he did summon Jollie to bring him a homemade meal. All the travel made him a bit homesick, and he needed some comfort food.

“Knock knock,” Padma peered behind the door. “I have some visitors and some good news.”

A huge smile comes across Hermione’s face as she sees Albus, Neville, and Hannah come through the doorway.

“Neville,” Draco extends a handshake. “So I guess by the black circles under your eyes and goofy grin, you and Albus made progress last night?”

“Oh, yes. I really wasn’t prepared for my godson to come banging at my door in the middle of the night insisting on going to the Hogwarts greenhouses. But I think we were able to make the progress by using ingredients the hospital didn’t have access to.”

Albus stretches and yawns, then gives his aunt a kiss on the cheek. “I think we did it, Aunt Hermione. I wish Draco could have helped us, but I know you needed him here. Draco, how’s the coffee here?”

“Terrible.”

“I’ll be right back.” Too lazy to go all the way downstairs to get out of range of the anti-apparition wards, he jumps out of the window and disapparates.

“Show-off,” Neville laughs.

“Draco, I brought some sandwiches and pies from Leaky,” Hannah holds up the basket, “I figured there would be a lot of visitors popping in and out. Thought it would be nice to have something to offer. We all know how rubbish hospital food is. Albus wanted to make something too, but he was too tired from working on the potions all night.”

The loudest grumble comes from Hermione’s belly, causing everyone to laugh.

Draco laughs, “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you, but we shouldn’t talk about food so much. Hermione’s been on a feeding tube while her throat heals.

She shoots them all a scathing look.

The healer checks Hermione’s injuries and monitors and looks optimistic. “Good news, Minister. The fissures in your bones have fused and some of the swelling has gone down. Your overall muscle soreness should go away in about a day or two with the potions you’re currently subscribed. Now, the potion Albus brewed last night should make all the repairs to your vocal cords, trachea, and esophagus. We’ve already run some preliminary tests in the lab. Are you ready?”

She looked at Draco, and he responds on her behalf, “Yes.”

Very slowly, she sips the amber liquid and winces at the taste and the burning sensation.  

Padma sees her reaction and says, “I’m sorry Hermione, but you’ll have to drink all of it. It requires you to drink a full eight ounces to work.”

Begrudgingly, she sips more and more; soon, she’s taking gulps. She can feel her throat and windpipe healing and it spurs her on to finish the potion, down to the very last drop.

They all look at her with anticipation, wondering if she is able to speak.

“So, love? How’s your throat? How long until you think you’ll be able to...you know…” Draco shrugs his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“You’re a complete arse, Draco,” she says hoarsely, but with a smile.

“That’s my girl.” He leans down and gives her a kiss.

“Draco, Neville, Hannah, could you please step on the other side of the room? I’m just going to pull the curtain around and do a few exams and take out this feeding tube,” the healer asks.

“Of course,” Neville says, guiding them all to a seating area. Yawning he asks, “Where is Albus with that coffee?”

“Knowing that boy, he’s probably going to some artisan roaster in Seattle who gets their beans from a small co-op of Costa Rican indigenous farmers,” Hannah jokes.

They all laugh, knowing it’s probably true. While waiting for their coffee and for Padma to finish up with Hermione, Draco recaps the whole tour and the battle the night before. Neville and Hannah opted for quiet lives after the war, so all of this is a bit overwhelming for the couple, but they are glad to see Hermione and Draco make it back alive. A delicious aroma wafts into the room, signaling their coffee has arrived.

Draco quirks his eyebrow as he takes the paper cup and asks, “So Albus, where did this coffee come from?”

“Just a little shop in Soho. Not too far, but they carry this coffee roasted in Chicago using small batches of Mexican beans,” he sips his coffee casually.

Hannah snickers, “It’s lovely, Al.”

“Ah, this does have a nice floral flavor. Thanks for finding a spot us mere mortals can apparate to,” Neville teases his godson.

Padma pulls back the curtain. “All done. No more monitors, feeding tube, restraints, or braces. We’re going to keep you here at least for another twenty-four hours for observation. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Hermione croaks.

“It worked?” Albus says excitedly.

Hermione smiles at her nephew, “No coffee for me?”

“Ha. Well, that potion will take another 1-2 hours to take effect fully. No hot liquids or solid foods until then,” Padma explains, disappointing Hermione. “But you can have some applesauce and a protein shake if you’re hungry now.”

“Fine,” she grumbles.

“Hello…” a timid voice calls behind a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers.

“Gran, is that you?” Albus comes over, taking the bouquet.

“Yes, dear. Such a good boy.” She pinches his cheek. “Making a potion to fix up his auntie and helps his old gran. Don’t tell your siblings or your cousins, but you’re my favorite.”

At that exact moment, Hugo strolls into the room and sarcastically replies, “Thanks, Gran.”

Caught in her embarrassment, she says, “Oh I was just joking.”

The cousins roll their eyes.

“I saw Dad and Grandpa in the hallway; they ran into someone they knew. But they’ll be here shortly," Hugo states.

“Well, friends, that’s our cue,” Neville interjected. “This room is far too small for this amount of guests.”

“Molly, I brought pies and sandwiches if you’re hungry,” Hannah offered, gesturing toward the basket.

“We’ll be off. Just going to visit Mum and Dad for a bit before we leave,” Neville points to the direction of the lifts. He and Hannah hug everyone goodbye, leaving Molly alone with Hermione, Draco, and Albus, while Hugo and Padma discuss patients.

Molly looks at the three and is overcome with emotion. She takes Hermione’s hand and starts sobbing. “I’m so, so, so, sorry we haven’t spoken since that day. I was wrong. When I realized we almost lost you, and I never apologized—I couldn’t forgive myself. I’m sorry,” she reaches for Draco’s hand. “You saved her. You brought her home.”

“It’s okay, Molly. I forgive you,” she turns her head toward Draco, “we forgive you.”

The Weasley matriarch nods up and down with more tears streaming down her face.

Ron and Arthur finally make their way into the room.

Arthur moves in first. He shakes Draco's hand and kisses Hermione on the forehead. “Glad you're okay, sweetheart.”

Ron hates seeing Hermione injured and feels sick at the sight. He makes his way to the edge of the bed and holds out his hand to Draco, “You did good, Malfoy.”

Taking the peace offering, he replies, “Thanks.”

“You look like shit,” Ron jokes with Hermione.

“Thanks, Ronald,” she rolls her eyes. She can see he wants to comfort her, but he’s hesitant around Draco, “Oh come here.”

He gently hugs her, afraid of her injuries. Through everything, they have a bond that can never be broken.

“When you getting out of here?” Ron inquired.

“Not for another day, at least,” Padma interjects, making her way over.

“Healer Lahiri,” Ron nods.

“Actually, I’ll be going back to Patil soon,” she says with a bit of hesitation.

“Is that so?” Ron’s eyebrows quirk and his lips curl into a smile. “Welcome to the club.”

This exchange is not missed on Hermione, Draco, and Albus, and they share a look.

Padma laughs. “Well, thank you, I guess? Hermione. I know you have a lot of people who want to visit you, but you need your rest. I hope you get the hint, Weasleys,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.

“Crystal,” Arthur chimes in.

“Alright, Auntie. I’m going. I need to get some rest before dinner service. Love you,” Albus says giving Hermione a hug.

“Thank you so much, Al. You’re also my hero. I’m so proud of you.”

He blushes and releases her. Albus says his goodbyes to his family and Draco, then terrifies his grandmother as he jumps out of the window, once again. Hugo and Padma leave shortly after.

“So what are you doing for entertainment around here?” Ron noticing the absence of books, magazines, or even a chessboard.

“Oh, just alone with our thoughts,” Hermione jokes.

“Scorpius and Rose will be here soon with the Grangers. They’re bringing a tablet so she can watch movies,” Draco shakes his head at the thought.

“Ah, movies. Yes. She gets very muggle when she’s feeling poorly. She especially likes to sing along with them or cry. Lots of crying,” Ron teases.

“Tell me more…” Draco looks to Ron for any juicy bits he would like to share.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting a guidebook to Hermione Granger’s embarrassing habits and neuroses. You have to discover that all on your own.”  


	28. Sign of the Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much happens over the next few months. Here is what happens as told by The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and Q.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my enabler Coyg-81. We met on Tumblr when she was my first ever followers. Now we are good friends and talk daily. So many fun things in this story wouldn’t have happened without her.
> 
> Beta: Mama2HPBabies aka my rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters after this! I'm crying! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this from the beginning. I don't even know how to thank you. This has been such a journey. From the bottom of my heart, I love you.

## 

## May–August 2030

* * *

**Daily Prophet**  
02 May 2030  
MINISTRY MOVING QUICKLY  
by Sheppard Wolverton, _Senior Editor_

LONDON — A terrorist attack and near-death experience aren't enough to stop Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger. Due to the excellent care of Master Healer Padma Patil Lahiri and an experimental healing potion brewed by Minister Granger’s nephew, Albus S. Potter, and Professor of Herbology, Neville Longbottom, the Minister was released from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in less than forty-eight hours.

The statement given by Interim Secretary of Communications, Clarice Dalton, on the Minister’s behalf has caused quite the stir. While many see immediate action against the Blessed Dark as imperative, they're torn on her welcoming stance with refugees. Some in the pro-refugee movement see the legilimency and veritaserum tactics as invasive and distrusting, those who are hesitant see it as a necessary precaution. Adding refugees to the British International Auror Task Force has also stirred controversy. Opposition has pointed out that we could be letting spies into the central network, but in the same vein, the DMLE can groom the new recruits in counterintelligence.

Though she still isn’t working from the Ministry, the Minister’s Mansion has become Minister Granger’s new base of operations. Sources say the Floo Network is working under a veil of secrecy. One can only assume that high profile politicians and dignitaries have been visiting the minister, and are adding the final details to begin auror deployment and refugee screening, regardless of opposition and public outcry.

It’s no secret the Hogwarts Board of Governors and recruiters from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have all visited the school the past few days. While the official statement is they are preparing for upcoming NEWTs and OWLs, one cannot help but wonder if the Ministry will be offering incentives for graduates to enlist in the auror training program and if the governors are looking at expansion and repurposing of underutilized areas of the school.   

The buzz around Hogwarts isn’t the only news our sources have relayed to us. Building contractors were spotted surveying land in the village of Hogsmeade. It looks like some much-needed development and expansion will be coming to the sleepy town. For what purpose, we can’t be sure, but we wouldn’t be surprised if it’s public housing, a primary school, or even new retail locations.  

While most of this is all speculation, expect an official statement from the minister within the next few days. From the looks of things, plans are already in motion. Merlin help the incoming Minister. While Minister Granger only has two months left of her term, she isn’t sitting on her hands and is maximizing her power and abilities. All of the minister’s actions will no doubt affect the outcome of the election. The public will either choose the candidate who will pick up where the minister left off or one who will put a stop to things. It will be an exciting election season, that’s for sure.

* * *

**Q Magazine**  
13 May 2030  
A FIGHT ON ALL SIDES, _Editorial  
_ by Lily L. Potter, _Contributing Writer_

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION _—_ I’ve spent the past eighteen months watching and reporting the unfolding horrors. I’ve seen death on both sides—children cry for their mothers, husbands have their minds erased and replaced with hateful rhetoric, international aid fumble and attempt to right wrongs, but no progress has been made — until now.

The attack on world leaders was more than an act of terrorism — my aunt, the woman who helped me with my Arithmancy homework, introduced me to the Arctic Monkeys, and told me to believe in honest journalism — almost died at the hands of the Brotherhood. It took all I had not to take the first portkey home, but I reminded myself, my job is here, and it’s up to people like me to report the truth.

Though it pains me to admit this, the Berlin attack was a much-needed catalyst to end this conflict. Much like the 1941 bombing of Pearl Harbor, our world leaders needed an awakening. I am not judging the hesitance to become involved before this point, I understand, I do. I grew up surrounded by the minutiae of politics and the frustration of opposition. I understand that nations prioritize domestic affairs over international ones, but the Blessed Dark is a parasite infecting the the magical community near and far. Now they are on the world stage, and everyone knows how dangerous they truly are. Tragedy is a unifier. Now the nations of the world are banding together to exterminate the Blessed Dark and undo their damage.

With great stealth, I have traveled between camps unnoticed. Many of the camps have permanently shut down. Others are beginning to cluster, seeking strength in numbers.  The Brotherhood is unhinged. They know they are surrounded—Europe to the west and Asia to the east. While Russia is taking their time to come to a decision, volunteers have joined international forces to the north. The overall mood of the Brothers isn’t just dark; it’s desperate. They plan on taking more drastic measures including suicide missions and unleashing obscurials. They are vulnerable and know they’re losing ground.

Heavyweight Asian nations, India, China, Japan, and South Korea, are now sending military aid and supplies. Brazil has sent master potioneers to camp hospitals and to Research and Development. Wandmakers from around the world around have also volunteered their services, funded by private trusts, to arm volunteers and fighters disarmed in battle.

Smaller nations who are unable to send aid have magically closed their borders, preventing apparition and portkey. The wards direct travelers to checkpoints, no matter if travel is for business, pleasure, or otherwise. While merchants (and a certain brother of mine) have been complaining about the protective measures, the general public has learned to cope with the sanctions.

The tides are turning and the time of the Brotherhood is coming to an end. Only time will tell when.

* * *

**Daily Prophet, Food and Culture Section**  
31 May 2030  
ROSE AND SCORPION OPEN SECOND LOCATION  
by Polly Chapman, _Junior Editor_

LEIGHTON BUZZARD — It has only been two months since the immensely popular Rose and Scorpion opened its doors in Wiltshire. While expansion was never planned, especially with a wedding on the horizon, the trio of Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, and Rose Granger-Weasley were presented with an opportunity they just couldn’t pass up.

Polly Chapman: So let me get this right. This all came together at St. Mungo’s?

Rose Granger-Weasley: Yes, the timing was terrible, but things always come together for a reason. We were all visiting my mum after the incident. Gosh, it was pretty late, but it was after Albus was able to get her the potion.

Albus Potter: Yeah, I was knackered. I was up the night prior brewing the potion at Hogwarts, brought it to hospital, slept a bit, then dinner service, then popped back to hospital.

Scorpius Malfoy: We went up to the roof terrace for a bit of a stretch—

AP: and a smoke—

SM: And a smoke, and that’s when we ran into Claire. My dad introduced Ms. Bailey to us when we were younger, at a Slytherin Alumni event. She was in the same year as my mum. Most of you know she is one of the heads over in Games and Sports. Well, when we came up to her, we found out that her dad just passed. He was a muggle but contracted a new strain of Dragon Pox while on holiday. See, Claire’s half-blood; her mother is a Travers.

RGW: I had a flask in my bag, and we shared a few swigs to drown away the sorrows.

AP: After a bit of talk, we found out her dad ran a muggle pub, and she was set to inherit it. She’s been thinking about leaving the ministry for a while now. Just getting tired of the politics and it was taking the fun out of the thing she loves. So the pub sounded like something she wanted to take on, but she knew she wanted to change the clientele.

RGW: She loves Quidditch, and she couldn’t exactly show broadcasts interrupting the footy.

SM: So I proposed we enter into a partnership with her. We purchase three shares, so we each own a quarter. Our buy-in would pay for the renovations and revamped menu, and the pub would ride the buzz surrounding the Rose and Scorpion.

AP: The idea was pretty brilliant. The first location was getting so packed every night. We didn’t want to just add extensions to the pub to accommodate guests. The intimacy is also part of its charm and how we control quality.

PC: So what was Claire’s response?

RGW: It was a lot to take in after just losing her father and all. But she took a few days to think about it, and the pub is ready to open tomorrow.

PC: So what about the old muggle customers?

AP: They’ll just see a derelict building shut down by the health department.

RGW: Pretty brilliant, honestly. It’s in a pretty densely muggle area. We considered an empty lot but were afraid muggles would try to park their cars there or try to buy the lot.

PC: Our readers want to know, which location will you be frequenting most, Albus.

AP: For a while, it will be 50/50, until I get the culinary staff up to speed. Maybe in a year I can step back for a while and start traveling again for some inspiration and continue to get more certifications.

PC: And will you be bringing a companion on these culinary excursions?

AP: Maybe…

SM: Stop. Get a room, you two.

RGW: Seriously.

PC: We didn’t say anything.

_In walks Claire, a little frazzled, but cheerful._

Claire Bailey: Hello, lovelies, did I miss the interview?

PC: A bit. Anything you want to say about working with Rose, Scorp, or Al?

CB: Oh, these kids are the best. Yeah, I know you’re all in your mid-twenties, but you’re kids to me. Working with Scorpius has been an absolute treat. Tori and I were real close in school. He does these little things that remind me of her, especially the nervous wand twirling. But then he’s got his Dad’s looks. Right jealous I was when Tori snatched Draco up. Looks like I missed my opportunity again. Oh well. _She laughs._ But Rosie here, I swear she was sorted into the wrong house. She is one little lioness who has no problems keeping up with the snakes. But Al. Bless. Boy after my own heart. Such a mouth on him. Knows how to piss you off and make you want to hug him all in the same sentence. He makes up for his smart mouth with delicious food and trinkets from around the world.  

PC: Well, Claire, you managed to embarrass our trio into silence. I never thought I would see the day when these three could ever be quiet. I have a feeling that the new Rose and Scorpion will be just as fun, welcoming, and delicious as the first.

_The Rose and Scorpion, Leighton Buzzard location, opens tomorrow at 11 am for lunch service and closes at half past midnight. The pub will be closed Wednesday, 05 June for a private event._

* * *

**Witch Weekly**  
06 June 2030  
Draco Malfoy Turns Fifty  
by Cathy Chatsworth, _Contributing Writer_

LEIGHTON BUZZARD — Draco Malfoy’s fiftieth birthday celebration was meant to be a welcome break after the events of the last month. While Minister Granger has been busy wrapping up her final days in office, she still managed to pull something together at the new Rose and Scorpion location with the aid of her long-time event planner, Cho Chang, and sister-in-law Ginny Potter. Her daughter, Rose Granger-Weasley, and future son-in-law, Scorpius Malfoy, have been incredibly busy with the minister’s new initiatives, campaigning for Justin Finch-Fletchley, and planning their wedding, so they were unable to partake in planning, but were in attendance. Witch Weekly was on hand to capture all the festivities but got more than we bargained for.

The celebration of the Slytherin Bad Boy turned Altruistic Silver Fox had an eclectic mix of guests — and a few gatecrashers. In recent years, he has been known to run in circles very different from those he associated with in his youth. With Blaise Zabini returning to the wizarding world with his muggle wife and supermodel, Vivianna, and the Notts moving back from France, it looked as though Draco Malfoy’s inner circle would now include his past and present.

Claire Bailey, former Deputy Secretary at Department of Magical Games and Sports, turned restaurateur, told us how an intimate celebration became an all-out pub brawl.

“It was a fucking nightmare,” Miss Bailey explained. “We were all really looking forward to Draco’s party. I hadn’t seen Theo and Daphne since Tori’s funeral, and Blaise since he graduated.”

Tales of Miss Bailey’s epic common room parties are legendary. The sixth and seventh years would set up magical barriers to keep underclassmen out while she snuck in wizard and muggle booze. It earned her the nickname “Cocktail Claire” which followed her into her professional career.

Miss Bailey continued, “We were looking forward to a real fun reunion. Well, Greg Goyle and Pansy Parkinson show up, claiming that they came in peace and wanted to make amends with Draco, and Daphne for that matter. A few drinks in and it all went to hell. Pansy was being a right drunken slag, trying to squeeze between Draco and Hermione. Daphne had enough. She yanked the bitch by the hair and slapped her across the face. They ended up rolling around on the ground fighting. Like proper muggle fighting with punching, slapping, and kicking. Mind you; these are fifty-year-old women we’re talking about. Well Daph, didn’t know she had it in her, pinned Pansy down and said, ‘When will you fucking get it through your thick skull? He doesn’t want you. I thought my warning to you at Astoria’s funeral was enough. You’re a horrible shit of a person. Trying to hop on the cock of my dead sister’s husband and now. Get the fuck out, or I will end you.’”

I reminded Miss Bailey swearing wasn’t permitted in Witch Weekly.

“Just black it out, besides. That isn’t what I said, that was Daph. Well, Pansy pushed Daph off and drew her wand. Well, the twat made the wrong move. She had Hermione’s wand pointed at her back, Daphne at her front, Ginny on one side, and Rose on the other. Goodness, it was brilliant. She lowered her wand and stomped out like a spoilt princess. I was behind the bar when all this was happening, but yeah, then there was another scuffle, but involving Goyle.”  

Looking for another perspective, Theodore Nott was happy to answer a few my questions. I asked Mister Nott to tell us about the argument that started with Mister Goyle.

“Which fight are you asking about? The one with Malfoy, Zabini, and Goyle, or Parkinson and my wife? Mmm...that catfight. _Rawr._ My queen. The pinnacle of perfection. She’s in for it tonight.” I had to snap my fingers to regain his attention as he scanned the room for his wife. “Yes. You’re interviewing me. Blimey. I just started talking about our sex life. Sorry. Ah, well it was good to see ol' Cocktail Claire back in action. There was this one time in our seventh year; we were all down about school and Death Eaters and what not. She threw us a party. Drank us all under the table, she did. Merlin, I was so sick…”

Mister Nott was clearly not in control of his faculties by the way he was rambling. I asked him once again about the altercation.

“Oh, yes. Well, Greg was being his _charming_ self. Honestly, I thought growing up and no longer being in Draco's shadow would have improved his behavior, but I guess not. Well, that sorry sod had to go on and call Draco a—excuse the lewd language, Goyle's words, not mine — _mudblood fucker_. Then he turns on Blaise and says he’s worse than Draco and might as well be a pig the way he rolls around in the mud. Blaise clocked him, and Draco tried to step between them and stop the fight, then he got punched by Goyle. Well, everyone knows Draco never backs down, well, unless he’s hit by Granger. Man, that was brilliant. Third year...ah, memories. Yeah, then those three arseholes start fighting like they were in a muggle schoolyard. Honestly, you would have thought they forgot they were wizards. Hermione couldn’t do much to break up the fight since her wand was pointed at Pansy. Well, Bailey wasn't having anymore of it, cast a sonorous and bellowed, ‘Oi Goyle, you fucker! No one fucking invited you. How dare you say such rubbish and start a fight in my pub. One more word from you and you’re getting kicked the fuck out of here!’ Then he called her a half-blood slag. Oh, wrong move. She stormed round the other side of the bar, grabbed by the scuff of the neck and threw him out the door saying, ‘That's it. I fucking warned you. Now you’re barred. Fuck off and don't come back!’ and hit him with a nice stupefy to his backside for good measure.”

Once again, I needed to remind the witnesses they can't swear in Witch Weekly.

Belligerently, Mister Nott responded, “The fuck I can't.”

My attempts at finding a guest who wasn’t completely drunk proved nearly impossible.  Blaise Zabini, whose arm was protectively draped around his wife’s shoulders, was asked for a comment but shooed me away.

I finally tracked down the man of the hour as Minister Granger was icing down his jaw. We asked him if he would call the party a bust or success. He attempted to laugh but was sore from the sucker punch. With the signature Draco Malfoy smirk, he said, “I don’t know if this was my fiftieth birthday or fifteenth,” he shook his head and kissed Minister Granger’s hand. “Why is it you become so immature surrounded by your childhood friends? I will tell you one thing. Tonight is one to remember.”

“Very memorable, indeed,” the minister added. She and Mister Malfoy excused themselves and offered us cake.   

The rest of the night was raucous and filled with mischief — the crowd clearly defying the definition of middle-aged.  Hermione Granger cheered on Draco Malfoy as he demolished Harry Potter in a game of darts. Blaise and Vivianna Zabini discussed muggle fashion with Dean and Seamus Finnegan-Thomas. Daphne and Theo Nott snogged in a corner like teenagers. Ginny Weasley initiated drinking games and “Cocktail Claire” Bailey was behind the bar, challenging the boys to a drinking contest. It was a memorable night indeed. We honestly don’t have anything else to add. Our very colorful witnesses said it all.

* * *

**Daily Prophet**  
11 June 2030  
LANDSLIDE WIN MAKES WIZARDING HISTORY  
by Sheppard Wolverton, _Senior Editor_

LONDON — After weeks of mudslinging and embarrassing debates including homophobic and mugglephobic remarks by Candidate Hestia Carrow, and very public family feuds involving Candidate Percy Weasley, Justin Finch-Fletchley is our new Minister for Magic. Minister-elect Finch-Fletchley is our first openly gay, muggleborn, unmarried (for the time being. He proposed to his long-time partner at last night’s celebrations), British noble, Minister for Magic.

The charismatic candidate won over the more traditional pureblood voters with his status as an heir and connections to the royal family. The younger voters view him as handsome, hip, and open-minded. In the end, his willingness to continue Minister Granger’s initiatives ultimately won him the vote.

_Read more on page 2._

* * *

**Daily Prophet, Society Pages**  
1 August 2030  
HARRY POTTER MAKES ANNOUNCEMENT AT BIRTHDAY  
by Cathy Chatsworth, _Contributing Writer_

LONDON — It has been quite the year for the Golden Trio, and it’s not over yet. While Witch Weekly was not on hand for Harry Potter’s very intimate fiftieth birthday celebration, we did hear he made a stunning announcement to his friends and family. He will be retiring from his post as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the same day as Hermione Granger’s last day in office. Sources say he kept the family in suspense and as they murmured in shock, he made one more announcement — he will be taking up the post as department head of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Becoming an educator had been a secret life-long goal for The Chosen One.

One can’t help but speculate the reasons why. Does Mister Potter not believe in Minister Finch-Fletchley’s new policies? Does he feel responsible for what happened to Minister Granger in Berlin? Is he no longer fit to fulfill his duties? Or is he working on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to recruit aurors? Whatever the case may be, the decision for Mister Potter to take up the post at Hogwarts couldn’t have come at a better time. Parents are leery about the influx of refugee students enrolled for the next term, and their parents living in Hogsmeade.

While we can’t confirm if the Auror’s retirement was always the plan, or if recent events pushed him to make the decision, we are excited to see the prodigal son return to Hogwarts.

On another note, Ron Weasley brought a date to his best friend’s celebration. None other than Padma Patil, the master healer that oversaw his ex-wife’s traumatic recovery. Are the two divorcees a new item or just enjoying each other’s companionship? Only time will tell.

* * *

**Daily Prophet**  
05 August 2030  
MINISTER GRANGER MOVES OUT  
by Eve Short, _Junior Editor_

LONDON — Over the past few days, Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger has been clearing out a decade’s worth of memories from the Minister’s Mansion in preparation for its new residents. A representative has confirmed Minister Granger has already moved the bulk of her belongings to Malfoy Manor but will be taking up permanent residence in the Malfoy Townhouse in Hyde Park in the autumn, upon completion of renovations. While the townhome is currently occupied by Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Granger-Weasley, they will be moving to the Manor some time after their wedding.

Their representative also mentioned though it’s customary for the lord of the manor to stay in the home until his death, Draco Malfoy will be passing on the estate to his heir as a wedding gift. He and Minister Granger intend on doing a fair amount of traveling and wanted to leave the manse in good hands.  

* * *

**Daily Prophet**  
06 August 2030  
MINISTER FINCH-FLETCHLEY SWORN IN  
by Sheppard Wolverton, _Senior Editor_

LONDON — The torch has been officially passed from Minister Granger to Minister Finch-Fletchley. Festivities began with the customary swearing in the Ministry Atrium to much fanfare, pomp, and circumstance.  

For the first time since the enactment of the Statute of Secrecy, a member of the royal family was not only in attendance for the inauguration of a minister, but participated in a ceremony that has not been performed in over a millennium. Princess Charlotte, though young, was poised and prepared for such a significant task. Magical historians were excited to see the Oath of Allegiance to Crown and Sorcery — in which a witch or wizard of noble blood swear their allegiance to a magical royal. As the princess tapped her wand on either shoulder, she dubbed Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lord Byrde of Featherton Hall, Minister for Magic, Order of Arthur. For those of us in the audience, we knew history was being made. It was humbling and incredibly patriotic, albeit ostentatious.

After the public ceremony, Minister Granger made the official introduction of the incoming Minister to the Muggle Prime Minister. Princess Charlotte and the Royal Guard of Aurors, and Harry Potter along with his successor, Evan Montague, were also in tow. The transition was easier than with Minister Finch-Fletchley’s predecessors. Minister Granger’s dedication on keeping an open line of communication with the Muggle Government proved beneficial time and time again. Though, in this case, Minister Granger’s relationship with the muggle PM wasn’t entirely necessary, as Prime Minister Pringle and Minister Finch-Fletchley were mates at Cambridge. One would say Minister Finch-Fletchley’s ascent was kismet.   

It appears the stars are aligning for our new minister. He has the support of the previous administration, the muggle government, the royal family, and the people. Only time will tell how he chooses to use his power and how he will define his administration. Minister Finch-Fletchley has mighty big shoes to fill—Minister Granger’s wore her dainty stilettos as if they were boots made for a giant.

* * *

**Q Magazine**  
11 August 2030  
COMING HOME  
by Lily L. Potter, _Contributing Writer_

LONDON — The fighting on the front lines has only intensified over the past five months. While the casualties have been great, the liberation of those imprisoned and enchanted have been greater. Brothers of the Blessed Dark are voluntarily surrendering and relinquishing their captives, but a few strongholds remain.

Last night, while investigating one of these fortresses, I found myself caught in the crossfire. I attempted to hide under my invisibility cloak, but with the fighting coming from all sides and closing in around me, I had no choice but to reveal myself and take a side. By the grace of fate, not only was it a British team leading the siege, but one headed by my brother, James S. Potter.

Auror JS Potter was promoted to commander of his division shortly after the attack in Berlin. Under his leadership, his team is responsible for more rescues and captures than any other division. What started as a small battalion of international relief workers, became an organized, well-staffed, diverse force of specialists, code named, Blazing Phoenix. Their missions have been classified up until this point, but sources say the Ministry will be revealing full details in the next few days.

When I came running to James, his expert team of healers and magizoologists had already rescued the child prisoners, and worked quickly to separate them from the parasitic obscuruses, hoping to prevent mass destruction. To say Commander Potter was displeased that a member of the press could have interfered with his final mission is an understatement. But as a big brother, finding his little sister in a danger zone, made him angry and fearful, all at the same time. He had no choice but allow me to fight alongside him — what I didn’t know was the children were the only priority. The division received the order to kill on sight, and when I became an unintentional soldier, I had no choice but to comply. Fear and adrenaline coursed through our veins as we took down one brother after another. The Brothers were falling like dominoes. We had no time to deal with the weight on our conscience as green light and disarming spells shot from our wands.

Once the last child was separated from the obscurus, Commander Potter initiated the portkeys. They were the same emergency portkeys the DMLE used during Minister Granger’s European tour. The ticks of the watches moved painfully slow as we fought what we thought was the final wave of enemies. I stayed close to James, without a portkey of my own. With only seconds to spare, on of the insurgents summoned the portkey right off of James’ neck while another shot a barrage of spells in his direction. I called and reached for him, but before I knew what happened, I was grabbed by the back of my jacket and sucked through the portal landing in the Ministry Atrium. What I wasn’t expecting was to see my brother Albus there.

My family are not religious people, but we cannot deny fate and prophecies. While Albus was at the Ministry to discuss his best friend’s stag do, he was in the right place at the right time. I told him about James and him needing help. Albus didn’t hesitate and ripped a portkey off one of the aurors. He explained to me there was residual magic and he should be able to find James, then ran to the nearest apparition point. It felt like Albus was gone for an eternity, but in truth, it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes. He returned with our brother’s arm draped over his shoulders, both of them dripping in blood. Some of it theirs, most of it not. It didn’t stop me from running into their arms, glad they were alive. There we were, the Potters — the selfless commander, the accidental soldier, and the unlikely hero. We were glad to be alive, together, and a little afraid of how pissed our dad will be.

* * *

**Daily Prophet**  
18 August 2030  
WEDDING OF THE YEAR UNDERWAY  
by Cathy Chatsworth, _Contributing Writer_

EDINBURGH —In just a few days time, we will see the official joining of the Granger-Weasley and Malfoy houses. Despite being such a high-profile wedding, the guest list only includes the closest friends and family. Everyone wanted a ticket to this event, but the future Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy preferred to keep their wedding exclusive.

Try as hard as they could, the Granger-Weasley-Malfoy clan couldn’t prevent details of their wedding from slipping out—but how could they? This is Rose Granger-Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy we are talking about, here! Sources say that bitter “should-have-been-guests” have been leaking details to anyone and everyone. The Wizarding sects of the Scottish capitol are already buzzing with rumors and excitement. While security will be incredibly high, we have learned the wedding of the year will be taking place at two muggle venues, Greyfriars Kirk for the ceremony and Signet Library for the reception. While in a highly popular tourist area, it is rumored that the family has requested muggle repellent and disillusionment charms around the church and library. Additionally, after the debacle at Draco Malfoy’s birthday party earlier this year, one can only assume the guest list will be highly enforced. Rumors have it that the elder Malfoy has private security tailing Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle to prevent a repeat of the disaster at aforementioned event. With the bride and groom being the two youngest members of the Cabinet, and the Minister being in attendance, along with the former Minister (bride’s mother), it’s almost certain that the request for extra security will be granted.

How lucky are we that The Prophet’s own Rita Skeeter will be on hand to report on what will no doubt, be a lavish event, full of love, and a few surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue and this saga is over. I'm getting a bit sad, but there will be a companion one-shot collection featuring flashbacks and some of the secondary characters!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought. Feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [ harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


	29. And I Love Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’ve come full circle. The story began with Rose and Scorpius’s Engagement party and now their wedding is upon us.

**24 August 2030**

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“Come in,” Draco hollers as he adjusts his tie. Scorpius walks up behind him, dressed in the sharply tailored muggle tuxedo, looking excited and nervous all at the same time.

“Hey, Dad. How do I look?” Scorpius presents himself and does a spin.

The father looks at his grown son, and his heart swells with pride. “You look great, Scorp. Which cufflinks are you wearing?”

“The ones you gave me for graduation; with the family crest.” Scorpius tugs on the cuffs to show Draco without having to take off his jacket

“Follow me. Those are for every day. You need to wear something special for your wedding.” He beams as he goes through the jewelry cases in his walk-in closet.

“You going to miss this closet in the townhouse?” Scorpius teases, pointing out his father’s penchant for finery.

“Extension charms, son. Hermione is great at them,” he says with a wink. Still rifling though, he finds the perfect set and a pocket watch. “Take off your wrist watch and wear this one. This watch, I wore to my wedding. The cufflinks too.”

“Really?”

“ _ Yes really _ . Now, where is the photographer? Aren’t they supposed to be catching these type of things?” Draco said, sounding annoyed.

“I don’t know, but I’m kind of glad it’s just us right now,” he says as he presents his wrist out to his father.

“Wait. Before I help you, let me retrieve my camera.” He summons it and casts the  _ Cameramea Leviosa  _ charm of his own invention.

“Nice, Dad,” Scorpius says, impressed as it hovers around them, capturing the moment.

“You might want to learn that one for your honeymoon,” Draco says with a wink.

“Ugh,” Scorpius winces, refusing any insight to his father's sex life—but his face relaxes as he realizes the possibilities. “What was that spell again?”

Draco laughs as he removes his son’s silver cufflinks with a mother of pearl M inlaid into the onyx crest. “I’ll write it down for you.” He replaces them with oval, brushed platinum ones with a raised, gold border in a Greek Key pattern, and in the center is a brilliant oval-cut emerald. “Your great-grandfather gave these to your mother before he passed. He hoped that she would give them to me to wear on our wedding day; the matching watch, too. He liked me more than your Uncle Theo. Astoria was devastated he didn’t live to see it, but he was there in spirit. And now, you’ll have both of them with you.”

Scorpius examines the heirlooms and has to steady himself before getting too emotional. There are times he forgets she’s gone and goes about his day, then there are days like this, where he aches for his mother. He winds the pocket watch and syncs it with his wrist watch when his father says, “Read the inscription; she added it.”

_ Bright are the stars that shine  _

_ Dark is the sky  _

_ I know this love of mine  _

Will never die

“The Beatles,” he laughs with a wistful smile and wipes his eyes. “It’s perfect. I miss her a lot. Today especially. Um. Thanks, Dad. For everything. Not just the jewelry—for always being there, raising me on your own, and never trying to replace her or letting me forget her.” He wraps his arms around his father, and they both let a few tears roll.

“You’re welcome. I’m just so proud of you. I love you, Scorpius.”

“I love you, too,” he breaks the embrace and wipes his eyes. “I’m just going to give myself another check in the mirror and talk to her before we go.”

“I’ll meet you down there. I just need to finish up.”

—xoxox—

Scorpius walks up to his mother's portrait and smooths out his tuxedo and adjusts the white rose boutonnière. “Hey, Mum.”

“Hello, my beautiful boy,” the oil painting gazes down at him. “You look very handsome.”

“Thanks, Mummy. I'm getting married today. To Rose,” he beams brightly as his eyes start to water. “I wish you were here to see it. Dad gave me the cufflinks and watch you gave him on your wedding day.”

“Let me see,” she says as she peers down.

As he displays the gift, the knot in his chest grows tighter. “I miss you. A lot. I know you're not really here, but—” he takes out his handkerchief and dabs his eyes.

Draco rounds the corner and watches Scorpius speak to the portrait.

“Oh, my little scorpion. How I wish I had more time with this portrait to impart more of my memories. But just know, you are so loved, and I am so proud of you. You will make a wonderful husband and father, just like your own.” She places her hand flat against the canvas so that Scorpius can place his against hers.

“I love you, Mummy.”

“I love you more.”

Draco places his hands on Scorpius's shoulders and says, “It's time to go.”

He nods his head and says, “Goodbye, Mum.”

“Good luck, Sweetheart.”

Scorpius can tell his father would like a word with the portrait and says, “I'll wait for you in the front.”

“I'll be right there,” he tells his son, watching him walk away. “Hello, Darling.”

“Hello, my love. You don't visit me as often,” she says, not with sadness but with suggestion.

Draco admires the portrait of his wife, who will be eternally young as he grows older. “Well, I finally moved on, just like you wanted.”

“Good. I couldn't have you pining over a dead woman for the rest of your life. You're far too sexy for that,” she laughs.

“And when my life is over, and I have another woman?”

“I'll wait for both of you.”

“Paradise indeed,” he smiles, “I picked the best first wife.”

“And I'm sure you'll pick an excellent second wife.”

He swallows hard, wondering how he got so lucky being blessed with not just one, but two incredible women in his lifetime. “Part of me will always love you, Astoria. And your blessing means the world to me.”

“I love you, too. Now go. We can't have our son late for his wedding.”

—xoxox—

_ “Okay, Mum! You can come in!”  _ Rose hollers from the other side of the door. Hermione had just finished getting ready in her suite and is now anxiously waiting in the sitting room of Rose’s suite while she gets primped. Cho suggested that Hermione not see Rose until it was time to zip up her gown. As the mother of the bride, she was quite reluctant and wanted to be there for everything.

The moment Hermione opens the double doors, she gasps. “Rosie...” the mother of the bride claps her hand over her mouth, overwhelmed with emotion. Her little girl is a vision in an ivory lace and silk, long-sleeve A-line gown, with just the right amount of crystal beading. Rose looks even more beautiful than at the fitting. Hermione isn’t sure if it’s because of the hair and makeup, or because she has the radiance of a blushing bride. Overcome with emotion, Hermione starts fanning herself not wanting to cry. “I spent a bloody hour in that makeup chair! I will not cry it off! Oh, my little flower. You look perfect. Merlin. There go the tears.”

Rose laughs at her mother, and her eyes start to water, too. “Stop it, mum! If you cry, I’m going to cry, and we’ll have to do it all over again. Jenny, can’t you magick this makeup from running?” she asks the artist.

“It is. But it won’t prevent your eyes from getting all red and puffy,” she answers. “So keep the crying to a minimum.”

Hermione walks over and hugs her daughter, but is mindful not to squeeze too hard and wrinkle the gown. “Alright, let’s get you buttoned and zipped.” Hermione waves her wand and makes quick work of what would be a tedious task using muggle means. “So you have your something old?”

“Draco gave me these,” Rose displays the teardrop diamond earrings from the Malfoy vaults.

“Something new?”

“The handkerchief Gran embroidered for me.”

“Something borrowed?”

“The comb from Victoire,” pointing to the crystal and silver roses and vines at the base of her updo.

“And here is your something blue from me and your grandparents,” Hermione smiles, slipping a sapphire ring on her right hand. “They gave me this on my seventeenth birthday; it’s my birthstone. But now you have something from the Grangers, Weasleys, and Malfoys.” Hermione beams and wipes away more tears.

The photographer has been discreetly snapping photos, catching everything as it happens naturally. The hair and makeup artists are packing up when Lily returns to the room.

“Aunt Hermione, Rosie. Uncle Ron is downstairs with your car. The coach for the rest of the family is here, too.”

“Thanks, Lil. Could you tell my dad we’ll be there soon? I just want a moment with mum first.”

“Sure. I’ll see you in the lobby,” her cousin replies and closed the door behind her.

“Guys, could you also head down to the lobby and wait for us?” Rose asks the photographer, videographer, and stylists. They reply and say their goodbyes for now.

“What do you want to talk about, sweetheart? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Hermione says with a bit of uneasiness in her voice.

“No, no. A little bit. Not about Scorpius, but—” she takes a beat, “How will I know my marriage will last? How will we know we’ll stay happy?”

Hermione interlaces her fingers with her daughter’s and says, “You won’t know. You’ll never know. But you have to want it and never forget how much you love each other. I know you’re scared because your father and I didn’t have the best marriage and we’re not exactly great role models. But we loved each other. Truly, we did. We loved each other to have you and your brother, and enough to fight for it as long as we did. But our love was a different kind of love, not the kind you and Scorpius have, or even the kind Draco and I have. I still love your father in a way that will never fade but its—”

“Fraternal?”

Laughing Hermione says, “Yeah. He and your Uncle Harry will always be my best friends. Now that we’re no longer married, we’re closer than we have been in years, and I didn’t realize how much I missed his friendship.”

Rose puts her head on her mother’s shoulder and savors these last few quiet moments.

“Sweetheart, marriage will be hard, and it will change your lives. There will be times you can’t stand each other and times you can’t live without each other. When times get rough, remember the good days. As long as you both remember to be one-hundred percent honest, forgiving, and accepting, you’ll make it. What you and Scorpius have is so much more than your father, and I had.”

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so. The way you look at each other hasn’t changed in ten years. You’re school sweethearts who grew puppy love into something real, something strong. Just look at you two! Before getting married, look at how much you have accomplished together!” Rose looks down, proud and embarrassed at the same time. Hermione continues, “You two aren’t afraid of hard work or expressing yourselves or vulnerability. Whatever you two are doing is working. Keep that up and find a way to be even better. Be each other’s beginning and end. And for the love of God, have lots of sex. Don’t let your family and jobs ruin your sex life.”

“Mum!” she blushes, sheer mortification on her face. “Oh, Merlin. Is that one of the reasons your marriage failed?”

“A contributing factor. But if Scorpius is anything like his father—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

—xoxox—

Albus and Scorpius sit in a room of the church waiting for Cho’s assistant to give them the cue to start lining up. Al passes a flask to the groom, but he refuses.

“I’m good. I want to have a clear head when I recite my vows.”

His best friend rolls his eyes, “Scorp, you’re jittery as hell. Look at your leg. It won’t stop tapping.”

“I’m excited. I’m not nervous,” he flips open the watch and sees it is a quarter till. He’s usually patient, but the anticipation is killing him. “Al, hand me the ring. I want to look at it again.”

Albus tucks away the flask and reaches into his right jacket pocket—nothing. He proceeds to check the other side, then the inside pocket, and his trouser pockets. Frantically, he pats down the tuxedo and with a harried voice says, "Mother fucking shit cunt bollocks! Can't find the ring!"

“What do you mean you can't find the fucking ring?” Scorpius’s eyes go wide with disbelief.

“They were right here in my pocket—”

“Albus Severus Potter. That belonged to MY MOTHER. AND HER MOTHER BEFORE HER. AND HER MOTHER BEFORE HER.” Albus had only seen Scorpius this upset when Declan McLaggen ‘accidentally’ groped Rose in a quidditch huddle. Still seething, through gritted teeth, Scorpius says, “Find. It.”

"Fuck Scorp. Calm down. I'll find the fucking thing," Albus responds flippantly.

Scorpius instinctively reaches to mess with his hair but remembers he can’t. “Christ on a cracker, Al. The wedding starts in 15 minutes!”

“Scorp, don't get your monogrammed pants in a twist. I’ll just summon it.”

“Right. Right,” he calms down remembering that simple  _ accio  _ is all they need.

Albus rolls his eyes while casting,  _ "Accio Scorp's mum's ring!" _

At that moment, Draco opens the door, and the summoning charm rips his trouser pocket as the ring forces its way to into Albus’s palm.

Deadpan, Draco says, “Al. Did you forget I took the ring from you to polish it?”

“Fuck…” Albus groans as the memory hits him.

Scorpius is to the point of hyperventilating. The nerves are getting to him, and he is uncharacteristically erratic. "Fuck. My dad’s tux is ruined."

"Chill Scorp. Have you honestly forgotten we can do magic? We'll just use  _ reparo _ ." Albus casts the charm on the frayed material, but it quickly unravels.

Calmly, Draco says, "I think the material is too delicate to be repaired. No worries. This isn't the only tux I own. I'll just summon Bobbin."

With a sigh, Scorpius starts to calm down with the ring in his hand and the house elf on his way. Draco urges his son to take a seat and puts his hands on his shoulders in a comforting, protective way. “Al, I’ll take a sip of that scotch now.”

“I told you,” he chastises as he pulls the flask back out.

“Where’s my favorite nephew?” Theo stumbles into the room and observes the scene. Scorpius is clearly anxious, and Draco’s trousers have a large tear in them. Cheekily he asks, "Granger do that?"

“Why must people constantly bring up my father’s sex life?” Scorpius sighs.

“Cheer up, Scorp,” Theo nudges him. “It’s funny. It’s nice to know his prick still works.”

Albus snickers as the two Malfoys go red. “Nah, I’m just the idiot who forgot I gave the ring to Draco. Summoning charm gone wrong.”

“Bobbin should be back soon with some freshly-pressed trousers,” Draco says casually, looking at his watch.

“How much time do we have?” Theo asks.

Draco replies, “I would say about ten minutes until we are supposed to line up for the procession.”

“The planner will tell us when to go,” Scorpius chimes in.

“Well if that’s the case,” Theo takes out a joint and takes a few puffs before passing to Albus. The best man shrugs and takes a few hits.

Draco, astounded at their behavior, scolds them, "Jesus Fucking Christ, Theo. Albus. This is a fucking church."

“Yes, Dad. It’s a church. It’s probably considered blasphemous to say ‘Jesus Fucking Christ.’”

The door opens, and the men are expecting the planner, but it’s Harry. Judgment all over his face, he waves away pot smoke, "Did I just walk into the Slytherin Boys Dorm?"

Theo chuckles, "All that's missing is Pansy giving everyone a blowie."

"Our year it was Gemma Hale," Albus smirks.

Scorpius, quick to defend himself blurts, "I DID NOT participate in that, Dad."

Al turns to his father and winks, "I did."

“Fucking snakes,” Harry jokes half-heartedly, “Theo, the godparents need to take our seats and parents need to line up. What’s going on with your trousers Draco?”

_ Pop!  _ As if right on cue, Bobbin returns with his master’s slacks. He changes quickly, hands the ripped ones to his servant and dismisses the elf. Draco gives his son one last hug for good luck and follows Harry and Theo out.

“Hold on to this. Don’t forget you have it,” Scorpius teases Albus.

“I won’t,” he responds. “Shit, man. We’re officially going to be family.”  

“Not just that, but my mother-in-law could potentially become my step-mother and my wife my step-sister.”

“Wizarding families are fucked.”

The two men laugh and share the last bit of whisky in the flask.

It dawns on Albus what Scorpius was suggesting, “Shit. Is your dad—”

“Mate, he’s renovating the townhouse all to her liking. He gave me these cufflinks and watch that my mum gave him. Oh, and my mum’s portrait said something today about a second wife. I didn’t catch it all, but yeah. Only a matter of time.”

“Wow...like them dating wasn’t weird to me...but Hermione Malfoy. Yeah. No. That’s weird.” Albus pulls a confused-looking face.

“Knock knock,” Cho says as she walks through the door. “It’s time. So Scorpius and Albus, you two will wait at the altar with your backs turned—”

“About that,” Scorpius interrupts. “I know it’s tradition and all, but I never intend on turning my back on my wife. I’m not going to start our marriage off that way.”

The wedding planner smiles. “I love it. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see your beautiful bride. Okay. Follow me. It’s showtime.”

—xoxox—

Hermione takes Draco’s arm, ready for the procession to begin, and reaches over with her free hand squeezes his hand. In a hushed, yet excited voice she says, “Our kids are getting married! Rosie looks so beautiful. I’m a blubbering idiot and can’t stop crying.”

“Oh, this morning was emotional too. Not every day your only child gets married. But Scorpius also looks very handsome. He’s nervous but excited.” He leans down to kiss the top of her head, not wanting to ruin her makeup. “Is it acceptable to start talking about grandchildren yet?”

“After the ceremony,” she says with a wink.

—xoxox—

“You look beautiful, Rosie Posie,” Ron says to his daughter as they wait behind the church doors. The music hasn’t changed, indicating the wedding party is still making their way down the aisle.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she looks up at him with a smile and he boops her on the nose.

“Rose Amelia Malfoy. It’s going to take me a little while to get used to it,” he sighs, “but I can’t wait for you to pop out those little blond monsters. A Gryffindor Malfoy. Man, that sounds great.”

“Can you wait for me to say ‘I do’ before you start talking about grandchildren and sorting?” she says sarcastically.

The string quartet starts to play their rendition of  _ Fix You  _ and the doors swing open. Rose’s chest heaves as she looks out to the congregation and catches Scorpius’s gaze. And just like that—all of her nerves are gone, and everyone else disappears from view.

“Let’s go, Daddy,” she says eager to meet her groom. As they walk past the topiaries marking the aisle, white roses magically bloom in sync with their steps. Ron has to slow her down, not just because she’s out of time with the music, but he wants to hold onto his little girl just a bit longer.

Scorpius stares at his bride inching closer and closer to him, and he couldn’t be happier he said to hell with tradition. He would have missed this—the sunlight at her back, the timid smile, and that nervous purse of her lips when she’s trying not to cry. He can’t recall a moment she looked more beautiful and mouths, I  _ love you. _ Scorpius feels a bit guilty as he sees her tearing up and dabbing her eyes with her hanky. But she gets him back and mouths,  _ I love you more. _ That was them, challenging each other to be more.

Rose and her father reach the aisle, and the minister asks, “Who gives this woman to this man?”

“Her mother and I,” Ron responds. He kisses her cheek, then shakes Scorpius’s hand, and takes a seat next to his ex-wife. He looks over at Draco next to a symbolically empty seat on his left, and his in-laws to the right. The two men acknowledge each other with a nod.

The bride and groom comply with all of the minister’s instructions while barely taking their eyes off each other. Then came the moment for their vows. Scorpius went first.

“Rose Amelia Granger-Weasley, I, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, have no idea what I did in a past life or this life to deserve you. I cannot promise to provide for you because you are more than capable of that yourself. But what I can promise is always to have roses on your desk, chocolate in the cupboard, a foot rub after a long day, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on  _ or _ punch, whichever you’re in the mood for.” They both chuckle and he continues. “I promise you’ll never feel unloved, unwanted, or undesired. I promise to love you in sickness, and in health, till death do us part.”

“How do I follow that?” Rose jokes as Scorpius reaches out to wipe away her tears. “I had something planned, but I’m going to wing it. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, I, Rose Amelia Granger-Weasley think you’re absolutely ridiculous. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. Your patience will always balance my stubbornness. I promise always to have those muggle sweets you like so much in my purse, to pick my dirty laundry off the floor, and I promise to be your partner in everything. You’ll never just listen to my ramblings; we will have conversations. If you need to cry, too, we’ll cry together. If we fight, we’ll always make up. You are my beginning and end, and I promise to love you in sickness, and in health, till death do us part.”

They exchange their rings and know that it’s almost official. More encouraging words and prayers from the preacher and at the sound of, “You may kiss the bride,” Scorpius practically lunges toward Rose and captures her lips with his. With all the flourish of a Malfoy, he dips her for a picture-perfect moment. When they come up for air, the minister announces them as the new Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Scorpius kisses his wife’s hand and recedes down the aisle with their wedding party and family following behind. Albus, the best man, high-fives Evie Heywood, the maid of honor, before escorting her. When they pass, Hermione is escorted by both Ron and Draco, with the rest of the family behind. It was official. The Grangers, Weasleys, Potters, and Malfoys are now all part of the same family.

—xoxox—

When everyone walks into the Signet Library, smiles grow on their faces. The tall Corinthian columns and frescoes are well maintained, befitting any pureblood estate, but the books and intimacy of the space couldn’t be more Rose and Scorpius. As a tribute to where they fell in love, candles are enchanted to float above them like in the Great Hall. The centerpieces on the tables are tall gold candelabras, cascading with greenery and white roses, and fireflies buzz around, casting the most captivating sparkle. Wrapped around the grand columns are garlands of greenery with smaller buds of white spray roses. The decorators mixed in some additional muggle lighting to cast an overall wash of golden light. Paired with the simplicity of the greenery and white florals, it is elegant without being overdone.

The dinner is delicious, prepared by the best caterers in the city. Rose almost killed her cousin at the tasting, wondering why she brought him along. Albus questioned everything and made them revise their menus twice. In hindsight, she’s glad he cared enough to be so demanding. The meal was unlike any they’ve ever had at an event like this and is the talk of the guests.

Glasses clink signaling it’s time for the speeches. The best man stands and gives the bride and groom a wink. A slight terror comes over them as they can’t recall how much he’s had to drink. Albus clears his throat and casts a sonorus charm with his wand in right hand and champagne in his left, “Hello everyone. We having a good time?” He pauses for a reaction. After the polite applause and getting the odd hoot and holler, he smugly continues, “I’m glad. My aunt and uncle paid a fortune for this thing. Mum, Dad,” He points at Harry and Ginny, “I don’t know if you’ll ever have to do this for Lily, but if she doesn’t, just float her budget into mine. Mostly the booze budget.”

The crowd laughs at the younger Potter’s humor and charisma. “Alright. I know what you’re thinking. Damn. The Potter spawn is just as snarky as his dad...but so much more handsome...thanks to my mother’s genes,” he drawls with a smirk. “A few of you look worried that I might be a little drunk, and this is going to be an all-out roast. I would say, yes. You’re probably right.”

His smirk deepens, worthy of his house, and puts on his haughtiest, posh voice and says, “ _ Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy...  _ Fuck, Draco. Could you have picked a more pretentious name? I think you seriously wanted his arse kicked daily—which it was—mine too. Look now, mother fuckers! He’s a member of the Cabinet and I...am less of a slacker. At least I have a cute girlfriend now.” He gives Polly a wink in the audience and tries to get back on track.

“Scorp and I met on our first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Two weirdo losers in the shadows of our fathers. Oh, but this nerd... _ just had to  _ fall for my cousin on day one, didn’t he? Rosie. You need to know this, but you were a bitch. I love you, but you were a total nightmare for the first four years at school. Come on! Look at this handsome cinnamon roll! Who doesn’t fall for the line, ‘you smell like bread’?”

Rose kisses Scorpius, apologizing for her terrible pre-teen behavior, “Hey! I learned my lesson.”

“Yeah, you did,” he kisses her sweetly, accompanied by the tinkling of glassware urging them to kiss more.

“Excuse me, but I’m in the middle of my speech,” Albus reminds the guests. “Well, in our time as outcasts, I found my best friend—the one person who really gets you, even when you don’t know yourself.  You know that utter humiliation they subject us to when we start school?  _ Sorting?  _ The thing that labels us for the rest of our lives? Well, I one-hundred percent think that if his name weren't Malfoy, that hat would have stalled and not known where to place him. He is kind and patient, ambitious and resourceful, creative, intelligent, brave, and loyal. Scorpius is all the things we want to be in the world. Now Rosie—”

“Uh oh,” She says already anticipating the worst.

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie...my cousin who is more than my cousin. You’re more like my sister, but you were also a big fat liar. You pretended to hate Scorp for years, but you didn’t. You fancied him as long as he fancied you. Uncle Ron,” Albus searches the crowd and points at him, “I’m going to blame you for that.” Ron shakes his head and points his finger in a scolding, yet joking, manner.

The best man relishes being the center of attention and continues public teasing the bride and groom, “Rose, don’t even pretend. Like I didn’t see those stolen glances across classrooms and hallways. It’s funny that you didn’t make a move until other girls started noticing him. Pol, babe, don’t think I forgot about that.”

In the audience, his girlfriend, who has swapped her blue hair for deep ebony, cringes, listening to him take the mick out of everyone.

“So jealous, you Weasleys are. Well, thankfully, you finally saw how awesome Scorpius is, and Polly was left dating losers until dating me, King of the Losers.”

“Cut it out, Al,” Scorpius chimes in. “We all know you’re cool. Stop pretending you’re not.”

“I’m English. Self-deprecation is second nature,” the best man states dryly. “Alright, I’m not going to pick on Rose anymore. She’s blood, I love her, and she married my best friend. This super weird bond the three of us share will be something I will forever cherish, and I’m happy to be your third wheel. I love you, Gryffindork and Slythernerd. Cheers.” He raises his glass and takes a sip before hugging his best friend and cousin.

“You’re such an arse,” Rose whispered in his ear.

“I know, Rosie Posie, but you love it.”

“I do, jerk.”

—xoxox—

The rest of the evening is a blur—dancing, champagne, music, laughs, and family. The bride and groom couldn’t be happier they decided to have a more intimate wedding. The band plays a slower tempo song and everyone couples up.

Ron and Padma find themselves next to Hermione and Draco. Ron nudges Draco in the arm and asks, “Fancy swapping partners for a while?”

“Sure,” He says with a smile, removing his hand from Hermione’s waist and presents her to her ex-husband.

Ron makes a similar motion and presents his date to his former nemesis.

The swap of dance partners is so fluid you would have thought it was choreographed. Hermione smiles at Ron and says, “Can you believe it?”

“No,” he beams. “Our baby is married.”

They both look over at her, smiling uncontrollably, wrapped in Scorpius’s arms, her head on his chest.

“It feels like just yesterday she was telling us how gross and annoying boys are. Especially what a weirdo Scorpius Malfoy was,” Hermione reminisces.

He replies, “We should have known that was code.”

They both laugh, and her voice goes quiet. “Thank you, Ron.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Being my friend when no one else was. Loving me. Protecting me. Giving me two amazing children and helping me raise them. Things weren’t perfect, but they weren’t all that bad either,” She hugs him in appreciation.

Ron rubs her back. “You don’t need to thank me for those things. That’s what we were supposed to do. But if you insist, you’re welcome.”

Hermione looks into his eyes and is reminded how kind they are. “Aren’t you glad we never renewed our vows? The price of weddings has become ridiculous!”

“What a waste of money that would have been! We still would have gotten divorced. Losing all that money? Yeah, I think that would have made me even more upset.” They laugh again.—something they’ve been doing that a lot more. Gone are the pressures of a failing marriage, in its place, a lifelong friendship. “So you and Malfoy?”

“Yes?” She looks at her ex questioningly.

“You think you’ll do this again?”

“Dancing?” she asks, dodging the question.

Ron furrows his eyebrows and gives her ‘the look.’ He knows the game she’s playing. Instead of prodding her, he drawls, “Hermione…”

She scoffs, “Oh, I don’t know. Not like this, that’s for sure. I’m not even sure that’s where this is going, but—”

“But?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Ron smirks, “I knew it.”

Hermione rolls her eyes and changes the subject, “What about you and Padma?”

He shrugs, “We’re taking things slow.”

“How slow?” she said with excited curiosity coming over her.

“Well seeing that we weren’t secretly in love with each other for a decade, pretty slow.”

She swats him on the chest, “Prat. Come on. Honestly. Tell me something so I can be happy for you. I want to know you’re doing good.”  

Ron smiles at his ex-wife. This was her in a nutshell. She still cared and wanted to make sure he was happy despite everything. He sighs, “We’re casually dating. Her divorce is a bit messier than ours was, and it’s taking longer. But there is the odd sleep over here and there.”

“Really? And are you taking your—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I guess it all came down to chemistry, and we didn’t have it,” he cringes jokingly. They both can laugh about it now that time has passed.

“Then I can be happy for you. Now speaking of our partners, where are they?” Hermione and Ron scan the room.

“Looks like your boyfriend dragged her over to the snake pit,” He notices them talking to Theo, Daphne, Blaise, and Vivianna.

“She’s a Claw. She can handle the snakes just fine. They’re all softies now.” She takes Ron’s arm and walks toward them. “We just had lunch on Wednesday. Daphne and I were talking about her daughter, Arabella’s wedding coming up next year. Vivianna is very sweet, but assimilating to the magical world is proving tough for her, especially dealing with a magically gifted toddler. He’s already doing wandless summoning!”

“Bloody hell,” Ron shakes his head, glad to be out of that stage of his life. He and Hermione reach the group and cozy up to their respective significant others.

“Hermione, I was just telling Blaise how gorgeous this wedding is and how I’m so upset he didn’t reveal to me he was a wizard until after!” Vivianna mock pouted. Blaise quickly remedied it by giving her a kiss.

“Sorry, love. There were just too many muggles at our wedding. We couldn’t have had a wedding like this. Statute of Secrecy and all that.” Blaise lifts her chin up for another quick peck. Weddings always have the effect of making people more romantic than usual.

“Well, as beautiful as this wedding is, I’m already having anxiety,” Theo huffs. “We hired another planner, and she’s a nightmare. We’re firing her tomorrow and paying Cho double. I want Arabella’s wedding to go as smoothly as this one did.”

“I feel absolutely terrible,” Daphne chimes in, “I haven’t been able to chime in since I’ve been overseeing the renovations. She and Pierre are still going back and forth from France. We must have a better planner.”

“Well, you’re not going to get a better one than Cho,” Hermione states.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” The bandleader’s voice booms. “Can we please have all the unmarried ladies make their way to the dance floor?”

Daphne, Theo, and Blaise look at each other with the most mischievous grins, reminding Hermione that now matter how much older and mature they are, they’re Slytherins through and through. Blaise points his champagne glass at Hermione, “That’s you, Granger.”

The adults snicker while she rolls her eyes and looks at them, “You can’t be serious. What about Padma?”

“Technically, I’m still married. Sorry,” she shrugs.

“I’m not doing this Drac—”

“Hermione Granger, get your arse up here!” the bride’s fiery godmother calls.

“I’m going to fucking kill Ginny.”

The group is now howling with laughter and push her away. She turns back to them with a scowl.

“Ready?” Rose calls to the crowd. She turns and hollers, “One! Two! Three!”

The bridal bouquet tumbles through the air, slows down, and gently lowers itself in front of Hermione’s face since she wasn’t reaching for it. She takes the flowers and whips her head back in Draco’s direction. He tries to look innocent but does an abysmal job. His wand is still in his hand, and he pretends to look in another direction. The crowd hoots and hollers as the band leader announces the mother of the bride will be the next to be married.

Completely flushed with embarrassment, she points at Draco and curls her finger, calling him to her.

He points at his chest and says, “Who? Me?” trying to play coy.

“Yes, you.”

Draco meanders over, keeping her waiting. She bites her bottom lip, trying to control her smile, but can’t. He’s doing that little eyebrow raise and smirk that drives her crazy.

“Am I in trouble?” Draco asks, licking his lips and grabbing her around the waist.

Hermione sighs as she throws her arms around his neck with the flowers in her hand. “Any particular reason you wanted me to catch the bouquet?”

“Roses and peonies are your favorites,” he smirks.

“I swear. You and that smirk. Sometimes it’s the most adorable thing, and sometimes I want to slap it off your face,” she shakes her head. “Luckily for you, I think it’s adorable right now. So you and I both know what this bouquet means. Are you saying that you want me to be the next to get married?”

“To me, yes. Anyone else, no.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

He pretends to scoff, “At our children’s wedding! No! That would be completely uncouth. I promise. When I do—notice that. I didn’t say if. I said  _ when _ —you’re not going to expect it.”

Her heart starts pounding, realizing the seriousness of his words, even though they are laced with humor and snark. She steadies her voice and says, “Don’t keep me waiting another forty years, alright.”

Draco rests his forehead to hers, already knowing what her answer will be. In sweet, hushed tones, he says, “Soon, my love. Very soon.”

Hermione presses her lips to his, relishing this moment—knowing the promise of a lifetime of moments like this are on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost the end! Thank you again for reading.


	30. Epilogue: Till The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of our story.

**September 2031**

The ship swaysever so gently while on the high seas. Draco and Hermione stare at each other in the early morning as the light creeps its way into their cabin. He gently brushes his fingertips against her arm, pleased he can still give her goosebumps. They’ve kicked off the heavy duvet and just have a thin sheet over their bare skin, glistening with a sheen of sweat.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” she says, biting her lip.

“We’ve been doing it for over a year and a half,” he teases.

She reaches under the blanket and pinches his side. “You know what I mean.”

His arm curls around her waist and pulls her in tight. “Say it.”

“I’m not going to say it.”

“Fine, then I’m ripping up the papers and pretending like it never happened,” he says playfully, and trails kisses from her shoulder to her neck. A little moan escapes her, and it gives him hope that his coercive tactics are working. He growls, “Say it.”

“My name is Hermione Jean—” She pauses enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

He crawls back on top of her and kisses her lips. “Say.” Then kisses her collar bone. “Your.” He then seductively traces a trail from her clavicle to her pert nipple. “Name.” His tongue swirls around the peak before taking the nub in his mouth. He sucks on it gently, hoping she’ll do as he asks.

Her breathing becomes difficult to control. She pants, “Malfoy. Hermione Jean Malfoy.”

Draco releases her and kisses her beautiful mouth. “Was that so hard?”

Hermione looks at him with the most devilish of looks and adjusts her position. “Speaking of hard—”

_“Good morning passengers. This is your captain speaking. The dining room is open for breakfast, and we will be arriving in New York in two hours time. The temperature is twenty degrees Celsius, sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Just a friendly reminder to have your luggage outside of your stateroom in the next thirty minutes for pickup and customs examination by United States customs. It was a pleasure sailing with you. Thank you for choosing Cunard Cruise Lines.”_

Draco looks down at Hermione with an almost defeated look and flops onto his side. He turns and faces her. “Is it our lot in life to be interrupted by waiters, boat captains, house elves...am I missing any?”

“I believe we’ll be able to add granddaughter to that list soon enough,” she beams.

He can barely contain his grin, “Only a few more weeks! And you’re positive we’ll be home in time.”

“Yes. Rose still has four weeks left, and the first child is always a bit stubborn. If anything happens, we have the emergency portkeys. If those fail, we can call Albus.” She strokes her thumb against his stubble gently. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Me too. I can’t believe they won’t tell us her name,” he pouts.

“They’ve been horrible. Feeding us false leads. At least we know it’s a girl. I can’t believe we had to force them to show us the ultrasound to prove it.” She snuggles close to him once again. “Do you realize how confused that child will be about the whole grandparents thing?”

They both chuckle. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I guess we need to start getting ready.”

Hermione sighs, “I suppose, and it will be a little while before we can check into our hotel. Not only do we have US Customs, but we have to check into MACUSA as well.”

“Joy. Nothing like American bureaucracy at its finest,” he says sarcastically.

“Thankfully for us, we’re here on holiday and no longer Ministry business so, government nonsense will be kept to a minimum.” She kisses him reassuringly then reaches for her wand and summons the fluffy white bathrobes embroidered with the cruise line crest.

Their wedding was an early morning, no frills, civil ceremony at Southampton Register Office. It was held in a quaint chapel with less than twenty of their friends and family in attendance. The bride wore a simple champagne colored gown, and the groom wore a charcoal suit. They charmed the room with various decorations, to liven up the space. But after the ceremony, removed them, along with the Superintendent Registrar’s memories. The small group enjoyed brunch at one of the lovely waterfront restaurants in the seaside town before the new Malfoys boarded the ship for their honeymoon. It was simple, the people who meant most to them were in attendance, and they did it their way.  

They both dress in the soft terry cloth and Hermione leads him to the balcony. As they stand against the railing, Draco pushes the fabric off her shoulder and kisses her bare skin. His hand runs down her arm and brushes the back of her hand, and their pinkies lock. They take one last look at the glassy, blue ocean. It’s perfect and serene. Here in this moment, they both know everything was worth the wait—just like that forgotten, aged barrel of whisky.    

 

_—Cheers—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve reached the end of the story and I can’t even tell you all how much this means to me that you have followed along. This was my first ever fic and the fact it has been so well received is astonishing. There are some people I must thank. They were the ones who were there from the very first chapter. When this was but a one-shot. Through their consistent love and support, this became the story it is today: Mama2HPBabies has been my alpha, beta, and confidant, and Coyg_81 aka Cocktail Claire, and Fairystonelove my biggest cheerleaders. When I hit my lows while working on this, you stuck with it. And to all the other readers who followed along, and to those who are finally reading it now that it’s complete, Thank you, thank you.
> 
> This isn’t the end of Confessions. I decided not to pursue a full sequel, but I will be popping in one-shots and mini fics into a collection when I miss my characters. Honestly, I miss them already and will need to revisit soon. I have a lot planned for the next gen, especially Albus. Man I love him. Oh, and my beta has requested a one-shot of the proposal. So I guess I need to do that ;)
> 
> Thank you again.
> 
> XOXO,  
> SaintDionysus


	31. The Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to tease you all. No new chapter. I just wanted to add the full playlist here as I will be setting my Spotify to private.

[ My Favourite Faded Fantasy – Damien Rice ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7r2az72yWEXzlrQEMJjcsz)

[ Our Day Will Come – Amy Winehouse ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4NDpn6yfD5aqafYWFEaJDz)

[ Latch – Daniela Andrade ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4WVRFif4gqrzSwEiABrbBn)

[ Creep – Radiohead ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6b2oQwSGFkzsMtQruIWm2p)

[ Everlong - Acoustic Version – Foo Fighters ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3QmesrvdbPjwf7i40nht1D)

[ Wonderwall - Remastered – Oasis ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5wj4E6IsrVtn8IBJQOd0Cl)

[ Desire - Gryffin Remix – Years & Years, Gryffin ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6JzCO4ZzxAXhY86vTcqM1Q)

[ Magnets – Disclosure, Lorde ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7nRmfGNhHKEEu5o8yFXLXt)

[ Chasing Pavements - Live At The Hotel Cafe – Adele ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1V8pHaJd5NdZVvWg6uM55l)

[ Breathless – Corinne Bailey Rae ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3YPchhrSmcwMHl41aToYG1)

[ Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want - 2011 Remastered Version – The Smiths ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6BrMEbPSSj55nQhkgf6DnE)

[ Just Like Heaven – Katie Melua ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2tHj8vYlXs8bpqeaHHqUAZ)

[ Fix You – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7LVHVU3tWfcxj5aiPFEW4Q)

[ Say Something – A Great Big World, Christina Aguilera ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Vc5wAMmXdKIAM7WUoEb7N)

[ Waiting Game – Banks ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0s24n5s7V0RKiDM51WVsgk)

[ I Wanna Be Yours – Arctic Monkeys ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0t6eWxZFkm89DuTj8tJ2fz)

[ Treat You Better – Boyce Avenue ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6BOYhKODXSFZME8kzQ5H7C)

[ Sunday Morning – Maroon 5 ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1YI0uK36eupTmw9F8kHysr)

[ Stay Awake – Ellie Goulding, Madeon ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7k6ti8VK8iXkXEx8148RoS)

[ Say You Love Me – Jessie Ware ](https://open.spotify.com/track/71AATBHZGo82EnjZnG53Zx)

[ Lovesong – Adele ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2rnvHrNnkWMcAkl4S1WlRg)

[ Closing Time – Semisonic ](https://open.spotify.com/track/087OBLtoeS3Q6j0k6tMNAI)

[ Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) – Green Day ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6ORqU0bHbVCRjXm9AjyHyZ)

[ How Soon Is Now? - 2011 Remastered Version – The Smiths ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1YrnDTqvcnUKxAIeXyaEmU)

[ Turning Tables – Adele ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5O6yk6U8L3rTbFsIwuqe8H)

[ Tears Dry - Original Version – Amy Winehouse ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0IEGGuRHP8ylbCXausRF9p)

[ Outlines – AlunaGeorge ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4plbRgEF5Nh9zpZyo8UM9A)

[ Everything You’ve Come To Expect – The Last Shadow Puppets ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5uvIVpDCvC9kTtSjJDbY8C)

[ Don't Speak – No Doubt ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6urCAbunOQI4bLhmGpX7iS)

[ Let It Go – James Bay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/13HVjjWUZFaWilh2QUJKsP)

[ The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get – Morrissey ](https://open.spotify.com/track/77d0w7w4olSAyh3F8UHWaN)

[ Chelsea Dagger – The Fratellis ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3ItzRpwvKtkDSNdRSjXu7Z)

[ Do I Wanna Know? – Arctic Monkeys ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7xmwLmkoWpghkq8jyEhtbx)

[ Coming Over (feat. James Hersey) – Dillon Francis, Kygo, James Hersey ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6m3ZWIXhjoV76syT1j2oE9)

[ Molecules – Disclosure ](https://open.spotify.com/track/45pvLeeK3mcKz1O8hPmYMX)

[ Is This Love – Corinne Bailey Rae ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5FvapYqWK6TEuh4csYwQ9O)

[ Rumour Has It – Adele ](https://open.spotify.com/track/76N7FdzCI9OsiUnzJVLY2m)

[ Smoke And Mirrors – Imagine Dragons ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0joO6IeobvKP3cDz8xZfWe)

[ Ego – Beyoncé ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6GcuA4J9ruyClBizBd4m5E)

[ Run the World (Girls) – Beyoncé ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1uXbwHHfgsXcUKfSZw5ZJ0)

[ The World At Large – Modest Mouse ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5op53ANI4exiWqFHKuwWxd)

[ Us Against the World – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5zyfzNnBzN7f7PVkJFnW2g)

[ Everybody Wants To Rule The World - From “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire” Soundtrack – Lorde ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4e5rVnBWDSwYLSXkMO6ljE)

[ Warriors – Imagine Dragons ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1lgN0A2Vki2FTON5PYq42m)

[ 24K Magic – Bruno Mars ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2gFvRmQiWg9fN9i74Q0aiw)

[ Suit & Tie – Justin Timberlake, JAY Z ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6iPTSmYesQjCPWUWON2eBE)

[ Into You – Ariana Grande ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2meEiZKWkiN28gITzFwQo5)

[ Both Sides Now – Joni Mitchell ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1pjATX7sbd6Y4jMVqIvzHk)

[ Prisoner – The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1gZADNt16Oh23jWyMYRk4p)

[ Green Aphrodisiac – Corinne Bailey Rae ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1vcCVF6p70St80HVDbUYDO)

[ Don't Panic – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QhURnm7mQDxBb5jWkbDug)

[ Trouble – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0R8P9KfGJCDULmlEoBagcO)

[ Unstoppable - Solo – Lianne La Havas ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7cwkvAzhr56r8Y11TSORor)

[ Believer – Imagine Dragons ](https://open.spotify.com/track/05KfyCEE6otdlT1pp2VIjP)

[ Real Love – Clean Bandit, Jess Glynne ](https://open.spotify.com/track/59swFMbWuPBEJLnJyUGo2Q)

[ Water Under the Bridge – Adele ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4vb4mFvYsr2h6enhjJsq9Y)

[ Don't Look Back In Anger - Remastered – Oasis ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7CVYxHq1L0Z4G84jTDS6Jl)

[ Heavy In Your Arms – Florence + The Machine ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3svizT5TsRqDffORHCmwKn)

[ If I Ain’t Got You - James Bay Spotify Session 2015 "Alicia Keys Cover" – James Bay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4WUipVjYtYBlxjMDTjySrG)

[ La vie en rose – Louis Armstrong ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4oSsp1XD5CD53zZWsdZsa5)

[ I Put A Spell On You – Nina Simone ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6GLPIERsI3GVegT1EBBrZo)

[ What's Going On - Recorded at Spotify Studios NYC – John Legend ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2hdXm61Sl3ZUEmVdTSWRuU)

[ Politik – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0u35Dpz37TY2M2j20RUdMf)

[ In My Place – Coldplay ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2nvC4i2aMo4CzRjRflysah)

[ Under Pressure – David Bowie, Queen ](https://open.spotify.com/track/11IzgLRXV7Cgek3tEgGgjw)

[ Song 2 - 2012 Remastered Version – Blur ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1FTSo4v6BOZH9QxKc3MbVM)

[ I Believe In A Thing Called Love – The Darkness ](https://open.spotify.com/track/756CJtQRFSxEx9jV4P9hpA)

[ Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7tFiyTwD0nx5a1eklYtX2J)

[ Live Forever – Oasis ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0ZyrgDl8C0Cq9Gt3nPxqvd)

[ Sign of the Times – Harry Styles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5ELRkzdzz0HvGpMDlfZHkV)

[ Sweet Child O' Mine - Rick Rubin New Mix – Sheryl Crow ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4x7eqIspBmRmxpQkikNgZY)

[ And I Love Her - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mZGglJLWfy0HxbVL8i9BL)

[ In My Life - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5QqdvVeYLL1xvZ1ndUjxnO)

[ My Sweet Lord – George Harrison ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0qdQUeKVyevrbKhAo0ibxS)

[ Daughters – John Mayer ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5FPnjikbwlDMULCCCa6ZCJ)

[ I Will - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0fRiIPNbwivbP2SbLOTuaI)

[ Fix You – Vitamin String Quartet ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2UCNLSfVefaha410Zn2CHZ)

[ Flightless Bird, American Mouth (Wedding Version) – Vitamin String Quartet ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3YCd7BeEniAvl48ZCInqsP)

[ Somewhere Only We Know – Vitamin String Quartet ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5qWPrTOPZm8LuGscsJsEcY)

[ First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5OiaAaIMYlCZONyDBxqk4G)

[ Green & Gold - Solo – Lianne La Havas ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Ek43WI8q3mDW6mEY3jE1F)

[ This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) – Natalie Cole ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0PDCewmZCp0P5s00bptcdd)

[ Rather Be (feat. Jess Glynne) – Clean Bandit, Jess Glynne ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0am001WwFBVGDGLwRh3ixi)

[ Love Never Felt so Good – Michael Jackson, Justin Timberlake ](https://open.spotify.com/track/48td6xvpokdYwvbl3JIiXP)

[ Till There Was You - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4w52uloVZcKSDRXB73Pi66)

[ Don't Stop Me Now - Remastered 2011 – Queen ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7hQJA50XrCWABAu5v6QZ4i)

[ Across The Universe - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/72Ob0wrObCXgvGYhFs8vip)

[ Golden Slumbers - Remastered – The Beatles ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1llzkEveIzvSXmqqyh7AiB)

[ Till The End - From "Me Before You" – Jessie Ware ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4wuKfMYt9XIDiGCIfloBRR)


	32. Memories and More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the complete list of all the sequels and companion stories. If you aren't following Confessions as a series, I would suggest you do. Thank you all for following me on this journey.

##  _Confessions: Memories and More Collection_  
A companion collection to Confessions of mini-stories featuring flashbacks and secondary characters.

* * *

####  [Confessions: Christmas Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923261)

**December 1997**

Draco comes home for Christmas holidays during his seventh year.   
With the Ministry and Hogwarts taken over by Voldemort’s followers, muggle-borns are in hiding.

* * *

####  [Confessions: Isn’t She Lovely](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891283)

**October 2031**

Rose and Scorpius eagerly await the birth of their baby girl and as expected, first-time parents in the wizarding world are just as scared as those in the muggle world. 

* * *

####  [Confessions: I Dare You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074064)

**February–March 2030**

Boy and Girl meet at school. Boy and Girl are indifferent. Boy becomes chef. Girl becomes food writer. Boy kisses girl. Girl...does other stuff. This is the story of how Albus Potter and Polly Chapman became the most adorable hipster couple in the Confessions universe. Runs parallel to Confessions. 

* * *

####  [Confessions: Teenage Love Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360159)

**September 2024**

 Rose and Scorpius have been made Head Girl and Head Boy, and their parents receive some interesting news from an accidental spy.

* * *

####  [Confessions: Mystery of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488950)

**May 2018 | **October 2032****

Magic and love were both wonderful and mysterious. It wove people together in unexpected ways that bonded them for life and beyond.Told in two parts, we’ll take a trip to past for the twentieth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and then to the future for Rose and Scorpius’s baby’s first birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I love this world so much and am continuing to write spin-offs. Please check them out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Confessions: Christmas Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923261) by [SaintDionysus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus)




End file.
